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+The Project Gutenberg EBook Carnac's Folly, by Gilbert Parker, Entire
+#126 in our series by Gilbert Parker
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+Title: Carnac's Folly, Complete
+
+Author: Gilbert Parker
+
+Release Date: August, 2004  [EBook #6299]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on December 19, 2002]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+Character set encoding: ASCII
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+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARNAC'S FOLLY, BY PARKER, Entire ***
+
+
+
+This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
+
+
+
+
+
+CARNAC'S FOLLY
+
+By Gilbert Parker
+
+
+
+CONTENTS:
+
+BOOK I
+I.        IN THE DAYS OF CHILDHOOD
+II.       ELEVEN YEARS PASS
+III.      CARNAC'S RETURN
+IV.       THE HOUSE ON THE HILL
+V.        CARNAC AS MANAGER
+VI.       LUKE TARBOE HAS AN OFFER
+VII.      "AT OUR PRICE"
+VIII.     JOHN GRIER MAKES ANOTHER OFFER
+IX.       THE PUZZLE
+X.        DENZIL TELLS HIS STORY
+XI.       CARNAC'S TALK WITH HIS MOTHER
+XII.      CARNAC SAYS GOOD-BYE
+
+BOOK II
+XIII.     CARNAC'S RETURN
+XIV.      THE HOUSE OF THE THREE TREES
+XV.       CARNAC AND JUNTA
+XVI.      JOHN GRIER MAKES A JOURNEY
+XVII.     THE READING OF THE WILL
+
+BOOK III
+XVIII.    A GREAT DECISION
+XIX.      CARNAC BECOMES A CANDIDATE
+XX.       JUNIA AND TARBOE HEAR THE NEWS
+XXI.      THE SECRET MEETING
+XXII.     POINT TO POINT
+XXIII.    THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT
+XXIV.     THE BLUE PAPER
+XXV.      DENZIL TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME
+XXVI.     THE CHALLENGE
+XXVII.    EXIT
+XXVIII.   A WOMAN WRITES A LETTER
+XXIX.     CARNAC AND HIS MOTHER
+XXX.      TARBOE HAS A DREAM
+XXXI.     THIS WAY HOME
+XXXII.    'HALVES, PARDNER, HALVES'
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+IN THE DAYS OF CHILDHOOD
+
+"Carnac!  Carnac!  Come and catch me, Carnac!"  It was a day of perfect
+summer and hope and happiness in the sweet, wild world behind the near
+woods and the far circle of sky and pine and hemlock.  The voice that
+called was young and vibrant, and had in it the simple, true soul of
+things.  It had the clearness of a bugle-call-ample and full of life and
+all life's possibilities.  It laughed; it challenged; it decoyed.
+
+Carnac heard the summons and did his best to catch the girl in the wood
+by the tumbling stream, where he had for many an hour emptied out his
+wayward heart; where he had seen his father's logs and timbers caught in
+jams, hunched up on rocky ledges, held by the prong of a rock, where
+man's purpose could, apparently, avail so little.  Then he had watched
+the black-bearded river-drivers with their pike-poles and their levers
+loose the key-logs of the bunch, and the tumbling citizens of the woods
+and streams toss away down the current to the wider waters below.  He was
+only a lad of fourteen, and the girl was only eight, but she--Junia--was
+as spry and graceful a being as ever woke the echoes of a forest.
+
+He was only fourteen, but already he had visions and dreamed dreams.  His
+father--John Grier--was the great lumber-king of Canada, and Junia was
+the child of a lawyer who had done little with his life, but had had
+great joy of his two daughters, who were dear to him beyond telling.
+
+Carnac was one of Nature's freaks or accidents.  He was physically strong
+and daring, but, as a boy, mentally he lacked concentration and decision,
+though very clever.  He was led from thing to thing like a ray of errant
+light, and he did not put a hand on himself, as old Denzil, the partly
+deformed servant of Junia's home, said of him on occasion; and Denzil was
+a man of parts.
+
+Denzil was not far from the two when Junia made her appeal and challenge.
+He loved the girl exceedingly, and he loved Carnac little less, though in
+a different way.  Denzil was French of the French, with habit of mind and
+character wholly his own.
+
+Denzil's head was squat upon his shoulders, and his long, handsome body
+was also squat, because his legs were as short, proportionately, as his
+mind was long.  His face was covered by a well-cared-for beard of dark
+brown, streaked with grey; his features were rugged and fine; and his
+eyes were like two coals burning under a gnarled headland; for his
+forehead, ample and full, had lines which were not lines of age, but of
+concentration.  In his motions he was quiet and free, yet always there
+was a kind of stealthiness in his movements, which made him seem less
+frank than he really was.
+
+For a time, with salient sympathy in his eyes, he watched the two
+children playing.  The whisking of their forms among the trees and over
+the rocks was fine, gracious, and full of life-life without alarm.  At
+length he saw the girl falter slightly, then make a swift deceptive
+movement to avoid the boy who pursued her.  The movement did not delude
+the boy.  He had quickness of anticipation.  An instant later the girl
+was in his arms.
+
+As Denzil gazed, it seemed she was in his arms too long, and a sudden
+anxiety took hold of him.  That anxiety was deepened when he saw the boy
+kiss the girl on the cheek.  This act seemed to discompose the girl, but
+not enough to make drama out of an innocent, yet sensuous thing.  The boy
+had meant nothing more than he had shown, and Denzil traced the act to a
+native sense of luxury in his nature.  Knowing the boy's father and
+mother as he did, it seemed strange that Carnac should have such
+demonstration in his character.  Of all the women he knew, Carnac's
+mother was the most exact and careful, though now and again he thought
+of her as being shrouded, or apart; while the boy's father, the great
+lumber-king, cantankerous, passionate, perspicuous, seemed to have but
+one passion, and that was his business.
+
+It was strange to Denzil that the lumber-king, short, thin, careless in
+his clothes but singularly clean in his person, should have a son so
+little like himself, and also so little like his mother.  He, Denzil, was
+a Catholic, and he could not understand a man like John Grier who, being
+a member of the Episcopal Church, so seldom went to service and so defied
+rules of conduct suitable to his place in the world.
+
+As for the girl, to him she was the seventh wonder of the earth.
+Wantonly alive, dexterously alert to all that came her way, sportive,
+indifferent, joyous, she had all the boy's sprightliness, but none of his
+weaknesses.  She was a born tease; she loved bright and beautiful things;
+she was a keen judge of human nature, and she had buoyant spirits, which,
+however, were counterbalanced by moments of extreme timidity, or, rather,
+reserve and shyness.  On a day like this, when everything in life was
+singing, she must sing too.  Not a mile away was a hut by the river where
+her father had brought his family for the summer's fishing; not a half-
+mile away was a tent which Carnac Grier's father had set up as he passed
+northward on his tour of inspection.  This particular river, and this
+particular part of the river, were trying to the river-man and his clans.
+It needed a dam, and the great lumber-king was planning to make one not
+three hundred yards from where they were.
+
+The boy and the girl resting idly upon a great warm rock had their own
+business to consider.  The boy kept looking at his boots with the brass-
+tipped toes.  He hated them.  The girl was quick to understand.  "Why
+don't you like your boots?" she asked.
+
+A whimsical, exasperated look came into his face.  "I don't know why they
+brass a boy's toes like that, but when I marry I won't wear them--that's
+all," he replied.
+
+"Why do you wear them now?" she asked, smiling.
+
+"You don't know my father."
+
+"He's got plenty of money, hasn't he?" she urged.  "Plenty; and that's
+what I can't understand about him!  There's a lot of waste in river-
+driving, timber-making, out in the shanties and on the river, but he
+don't seem to mind that.  He's got fads, though, about how we are to
+live, and this is one of them."  He looked at the brass-tipped boots
+carefully.  A sudden resolve came into his face.  He turned to the girl
+and flushed as he spoke.  "Look here," he added, "this is the last day
+I'm going to wear these boots.  He's got to buy me a pair without any
+brass clips on them, or I'll kick."
+
+"No, it isn't the last day you're going to wear them, Carnac."
+
+"It is.  I wonder if all boys feel towards their father as I do to mine.
+He don't treat me right.  He--"
+
+"Oh, look," interrupted Junia.  "Look-Carnac!"  She pointed in dismay.
+
+Carnac saw a portion of the bank of the river disappear with Denzil.  He
+ran over to the bank and looked down.  In another moment he had made his
+way to a descending path which led him swiftly to the river's edge.  The
+girl remained at the top.  The boy had said to her: "You stay there.
+I'll tell you what to do."
+
+"Is-is he killed?" she called with emotion.
+
+"Killed!  No.  He's all right," he called back to her.  "I can see him
+move.  Don't be frightened.  He's not in the water.  It was only about a
+thirty-foot fall.  You stay there, and I'll tell you what to do," he
+added.
+
+A few moments later, the boy called up: "He's all right, but his leg is
+broken.  You go to my father's camp--it's near.  People are sure to be
+there, and maybe father too.  You bring them along."
+
+In an instant the girl was gone.  The boy, left behind, busied himself in
+relieving the deformed broken-legged habitant.  He brought some water in
+his straw hat to refresh him.  He removed the rocks and dirt, and dragged
+the little man out.
+
+"It was a close call--bien sur," said Denzil, breathing hard.  "I always
+said that place wasn't safe, but I went on it myself.  That's the way in
+life.  We do what we forbid ourselves to do; we suffer the shames we damn
+in others--but yes."
+
+There was a pause, then he added: "That's what you'll do in your life,
+M'sieu' Carnac.  That's what you'll do."
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Well, you never can tell--but no."
+
+"But you always can tell," remarked the boy.  "The thing is, do what you
+feel you've got to do, and never mind what happens."
+
+"I wish I could walk," remarked the little man, "but this leg of mine is
+broke--ah, bah, it is!"
+
+"Yes, you mustn't try to walk.  Be still," answered the boy.  "They'll be
+here soon."  Slowly and carefully he took off the boot and sock from the
+broken leg, and, with his penknife, opened the seam of the corduroy
+trouser.  "I believe I could set that leg myself," he added.
+
+"I think you could--bagosh," answered Denzil heavily.  "They'll bring a
+rope to haul me up?"
+
+"Junia has a lot of sense, she won't forget anything."
+
+"And if your father's there, he'll not forget anything," remarked Denzil.
+
+"He'll forget to make me wear these boots tomorrow," said the boy
+stubbornly, his chin in his hands, his eyes fixed gloomily on the brass-
+headed toes.
+
+There was a long silence.  At last from the stricken Denzil came the
+words: "You'll have your own way about the boots."
+
+Carnac murmured, and presently said:
+
+"Lucky you fell where you did.  Otherwise, you'd have been in the water,
+and then I couldn't have been of any use."
+
+"I hear them coming--holy, yes!"
+
+Carnac strained his ears.  "Yes, you're right.  I hear them too."
+
+A few moments later, Carnac's father came sliding down the bank, a rope
+in his hands, some workmen remaining above.
+
+"What's the matter here?" he asked.  "A fall, eh!  Dang little fool--
+now, you are a dang little fool, and you know it, Denzil."
+
+He nodded to his boy, then he raised the wounded man's head and
+shoulders, and slipped the noose over until it caught under his arms.
+
+The old lumber-king's movements were swift, sure and exact.  A moment
+later he lifted Denzil in his arms, and carried him over to the steep
+path up which he was presently dragged.
+
+At the top, Denzil turned to Carnac's father.  "M'sieu', Carnac hates
+wearing those brass-toed boots," he said boldly.
+
+The lumber-king looked at his boy acutely.  He blew his nose hard, with a
+bandana handkerchief.  Then he nodded towards the boy.
+
+"He can suit himself about that," he said.
+
+With accomplished deftness, with some sacking and two poles, a hasty but
+comfortable ambulance was made under the skilful direction of the river-
+master.  He had the gift of outdoor life.  He did not speak as he worked,
+but kept humming to himself.
+
+"That's all right," he said, as he saw Denzil on the stretcher.  "We'll
+get on home now."
+
+"Home?" asked his son.
+
+"Yes, Montreal--to-night," replied his father.  "The leg has to be set."
+
+"Why don't you set it?" asked the boy.
+
+The river-master gazed at him attentively.  "Well, I might, with your
+help," he said.  "Come along."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ELEVEN YEARS PASS
+
+Eleven years had passed since Denzil's fall, and in that time much
+history had been made.  Carnac Grier, true to his nature, had travelled
+from incident to incident, from capacity to capacity, apparently without
+system, yet actually with the keenest desire to fulfil himself; with an
+honesty as inveterate as his looks were good and his character filled
+with dark recesses.  In vain had his father endeavoured to induce him to
+enter the lumber business; to him it seemed too conventional and fixed.
+
+Yet, in his way, he knew the business well.  By instinct, over the
+twenty-five years of his life, he had observed and become familiar with
+the main features of the work.  He had once or twice even buried himself
+in the shanties of the backwoods, there to inhale and repulse the fetid
+air, to endure the untoward, half-savage life, the clean, strong food,
+the bitter animosities and the savage friendships.  It was a land where
+sunshine travelled, and in the sun the bright, tuneful birds made lively
+the responsive world.  Sometimes an eagle swooped down the stream; again
+and again, hawks, and flocks of pigeons which frequented the lonely
+groves on the river-side, made vocal the world of air; flocks of wild
+ducks, or geese, went whirring down the long spaces of water between the
+trees on either bank; and some one with a fiddle or a concertina made
+musical the evening, while the singing voices of rough habitants rang
+through the air.
+
+It was all spirited; it smelt good; it felt good; but it was not for
+Carnac.  When he had a revolt against anything in life, the grim storm
+scenes of winter in the shanties under the trees and the snow-swept hills
+came to his mind's eye.  The summer life of the river, and what is called
+"running the river," had for him great charms.  The smell of hundreds of
+thousands of logs in the river, the crushed bark, the slimy ooze were all
+suggestive of life in the making.  But the savage seclusion of the wild
+life in winter repelled his senses.  Besides, the lumber business meant
+endless figures and measurements in stuffy offices and he retreated from
+it all.
+
+He had an artistic bent.  From a small child he had had it, and it grew
+with his years.  He wanted to paint, and he painted; he wanted to sculp
+in clay, and he sculped in clay; but all the time he was conscious it was
+the things he had seen and the life he had lived which made his painting
+and his sculpture worth while.  It was absurd that a man of his great
+outdoor capacity should be the slave of a temperamental quality, and yet
+it was so.  It was no good for his father to condemn, or his mother to
+mourn, he went his own way.
+
+He had seen much of Junia Shale in these years and had grown fond of her,
+but she was away much with an aunt in the West, and she was sent to
+boarding-school, and they saw each other only at intervals.  She liked
+him and showed it, but he was not ready to go farther.  As yet his art
+was everything to him, and he did not think of marriage.  He was care-
+free.  He had a little money of his own, left by an uncle of his mother,
+and he had also an allowance from his mother--none from his father--and
+he was satisfied with life.
+
+His brother, Fabian, being the elder, by five years, had gone into his
+father's business as a partner, and had remained there.  Fabian had at
+last married an elder sister of Junia Shale and settled down in a house
+on the hill, and the lumber-king, John Grier, went on building up his
+splendid business.
+
+At last, Carnac, feeling he was making small headway with his painting,
+determined to go again to New York and Paris.  He had already spent a
+year in each place and it had benefited him greatly.  So, with that
+sudden decision which marked his life, he started for New York.  It was
+immediately after the New Year and the ground was covered with snow.  He
+looked out of the window of the train, and there was only the long line
+of white country broken by the leafless trees and rail-fences and the
+mansard-roofs and low cottages with their stoops, built up with earth to
+keep them warm; and the sheds full of cattle; and here and there a
+sawmill going hard, and factories pounding away and men in fur coats
+driving the small Indian ponies; and the sharp calls of the men with the
+sleigh bringing wood, or meat, or vegetables to market.  He was by nature
+a queer compound of Radical and Conservative, a victim of vision and
+temperament.  He was full of pride, yet fuller of humility of a real
+kind.  As he left Montreal he thought of Junia Shale, and he recalled the
+day eleven years before when he had worn brass-toed boots, and he had
+caught Junia in his arms and kissed her, and Denzil had had his accident.
+Denzil had got unreasonably old since then; but Junia remained as she was
+the joyous day when boyhood took on the first dreams of manhood.
+
+Life was a queer thing, and he had not yet got his bearings in it.  He
+had a desire to reform the world and he wanted to be a great painter or
+sculptor, or both; and he entered New York with a new sense developed.
+He was keen to see, to do, and to feel.  He wanted to make the world ring
+with his name and fame, yet he wanted to do the world good also, if he
+could.  It was a curious state of mind for the English boy, who talked
+French like a native and loved French literature and the French people,
+and was angry with those English-Canadians who were so selfish they would
+never learn French.
+
+Arrived in New York he took lodgings near old Washington Square, where
+there were a few studios near the Bohemian restaurants and a life as
+nearly continental as was possible in a new country.  He got in touch
+with a few artists and began to paint, doing little scenes in the Bowery
+and of the night-life of New York, and visiting the Hudson River and Long
+Island for landscape and seascape sketches.
+
+One day he was going down Broadway, and near Union Square he saved a girl
+from being killed by a street-car.  She had slipped and fallen on the
+track and a car was coming.  It was impossible for her to get away in
+time, and Carnac had sprung to her and got her free.  She staggered to
+her feet, and he saw she was beautiful and foreign.  He spoke to her in
+French and her eyes lighted, for she was French.  She told him at once
+that her name was Luzanne Larue.  He offered to get a cab and take her
+home, but she said no, she was fit to walk, so he went with her slowly to
+her home in one of the poor streets on the East side.  They talked as
+they went, and Carnac saw she was of the lower middle-class, with more
+refinement than was common in that class, and more charm.  She was a
+fascinating girl with fine black eyes, black hair, a complexion of cream,
+and a gift of the tongue.  Carnac could not see that she was very subtle.
+She seemed a marvel of guilelessness.  She had a wonderful head and neck,
+and as he was planning a picture of an early female martyr, he decided to
+ask her to sit to him.
+
+Arrived at her humble home, he was asked to enter, and there he met her
+father, Isel Larue, a French monarchist who had been exiled from Paris
+for plotting against the Government.  He was handsome with snapping black
+eyes, a cruel mouth and a droll and humorous tongue.  He was grateful
+to Carnac for saving his daughter's life.  Coffee and cigarettes were
+produced, and they chatted and smoked while Carnac took in the
+surroundings.  Everything was plain, but spotlessly clean, and he learned
+that Larue made his living by doing odd jobs in an electric firm.  He was
+just home from his work.  Luzanne was employed every afternoon in a
+milliner's shop, but her evenings were free after the housework was done
+at nine o'clock.  Carnac in a burst of enthusiasm asked if she would sit
+to him as a model in the mornings.  Her father instantly said, of course
+she would.
+
+This she did for many days, and sat with her hair down and bared neck, as
+handsome and modest as a female martyr should.  Carnac painted her with
+skill.  Sometimes he would walk with her to lunch and make her eat
+something sustaining, and they talked freely then, though little was said
+while he was painting her.  At last one day the painting was finished,
+and she looked up at him wistfully when he told her he would not need
+another sitting.  Carnac, overcome by her sadness, put his arms round her
+and kissed her mouth, her eyes, her neck ravenously.  She made only a
+slight show of resistance.  When he stopped she said: "Is that the way
+you keep your word to my father?  I am here alone and you embrace me--
+is that fair?"
+
+"No, it isn't, and I promise I won't do it again, Luzanne.  I am sorry.
+I wanted our friendship to benefit us both, and now I've spoiled it all."
+
+"No, you haven't spoiled it all," said Luzanne with a sigh, and she
+buttoned up the neck of her blouse, flushing slightly as she did so.
+Her breast heaved and suddenly she burst into tears.  It was evident she
+wanted Carnac to comfort her, perhaps to kiss her again, but he did not
+do so.  He only stood over her, murmuring penance and asking her to
+forget it.
+
+"I can't forget it--I can't.  No man but my father has ever kissed me
+before.  It makes me, oh! so miserable!" but she smiled through her
+tears.  Suddenly she dried her eyes.  "Once a man tried to kiss me--and
+something more.  He was rich and he'd put money into Madame Margot's
+millinery business.  He was brilliant, and married, but he had no rules
+for his morals--all he wanted was money and pleasures which he bought.
+I was attracted by him, but one day he tried to kiss me.  I slapped his
+face, and then I hated him.  So, when you kissed me to-day, I thought of
+that, and it made me unhappy--but yes."
+
+"You did not slap my face, Luzanne?"
+
+She blushed and hung her head.  "No, I did not; you are not a bad man.
+He would have spoiled my life.  He made it clear I could have all the
+luxuries money could buy--all except marriage!"  She shrugged her
+shoulders.
+
+Carnac was of an impressionable nature, but brought to face the
+possibility of marriage with Luzanne, he shrank.  If ever he married it
+would be a girl like Junia Shale, beautiful, modest, clever and well
+educated.  No, Luzanne could never be for him.  So he forbore doing more
+than ask her to forgive him, and he would take her to lunch-the last
+lunch of the picture-if she would.  With features in chagrin, she put
+on her hat, yet when she turned to him, she was smiling.
+
+He visited her home occasionally, and Luzanne's father had a friend,
+Ingot by name, who was sometimes present.  This man made himself almost
+unbearable at first; but Luzanne pulled Ingot up acridly, and he
+presently behaved well.  Ingot disliked all men in better positions than
+himself, and was a revolutionary of the worst sort--a revolutionary and
+monarchist.  He was only a monarchist because he loved conspiracy and
+hated the Republican rulers who had imprisoned him--"those bombastics,"
+he called them.  It was a constitutional quarrel with the world.
+However, he became tractable, and then he and Larue formed a plot to make
+Carnac marry Luzanne.  It was hatched by Ingot, approved by Larue, and at
+length consented to by the girl, for so far as she could love anyone, she
+loved Carnac; and she made up her mind that if he married her, no matter
+how, she would make him so happy he would forgive all.
+
+About four months after the incident in the studio, a picnic was arranged
+for the Hudson River.  Only the four went.  Carnac had just sold a
+picture at a good price--his Christian Martyr picture--and he was in high
+spirits.  They arrived at the spot arranged for the picnic in time for
+lunch, and Luzanne prepared it.  When the lunch was ready, they sat down.
+There was much gay talk, compliments to Carnac came from both Larue and
+Ingot, and Carnac was excited and buoyant.  He drank much wine and beer,
+and told amusing stories of the French-Canadians which delighted them
+all.  He had a gift of mimicry and he let himself go.
+
+"You got a pretty fine tongue in your head--but of the best," said Ingot
+with a burst of applause.  "You'd make a good actor, a holy good actor.
+You got a way with you.  Coquelin, Salvini, Bernhardt!  Voila, you're
+just as good!  Bagosh, I'd like to see you on the stage."
+
+"So would I," said Larue.  "I think you could play a house full in no
+time and make much cash--I think you could.  Don't you think so,
+Luzanne?"
+
+Luzanne laughed.  "He can act very first-class, I'm sure," she said,
+and she turned and looked Carnac in the eyes.  She was excited, she was
+handsome, she was slim and graceful, and Carnac felt towards her as he
+did the day at the studio, as though he'd like to kiss her.  He knew it
+was not real, but it was the man in him and the sex in her.
+
+For an hour and a half the lunch went on, all growing gayer, and then at
+last Ingot said: "Well, I'm going to have a play now here, and Carnac
+Grier shall act, and we all shall act.  We're going to have a wedding
+ceremony between M'sieu' Grier and Luzanne--but, hush, why not!" he
+added, when Luzanne shook her finger at him, and said she'd do nothing of
+the kind, having, however, agreed to it beforehand.  "Why not!  There's
+nothing in it.  They'll both be married some day and it will be good
+practice for them.  They can learn now how to do it.  It's got to be
+done--but yes.  I'll find a Judge in the village.  Come now, hands up,
+those that will do it."
+
+With a loud laugh Larue held up his hand, Carnac, who was half-drunk, did
+the same, and after a little hesitation Luzanne also.
+
+"Good--a gay little comedy, that's what it is.  I'm off for the Judge,"
+and away went Ingot hard afoot, having already engaged a Judge, called
+Grimshaw, in the village near to perform the ceremony.  When he had gone,
+Larue went off to smoke and Luzanne and Carnac cleared up the lunch-
+things and put all away in the baskets.  When it was finished, Carnac and
+Luzanne sat down under a tree and talked cheerfully, and Luzanne was
+never so effective as she was that day.  They laughed over the mock
+ceremony to be performed.
+
+"I'm a Catholic, you know," said Luzanne, "and it isn't legal in my
+church with no dispensation to be married to a Protestant like you.  But
+as it is, what does it matter!"
+
+"Well, that's true," said Carnac.  "I suppose I ought to be acting the
+lover now; I ought to be kissing you, oughtn't I?"
+
+"As an actor, yes, but as a man, better not unless others are present.
+Wait till the others come.  Wait for witnesses, so that it can look like
+the real thing.
+
+"See, there they come now."  She pointed, and in the near distance Ingot
+could be seen approaching with a short, clean-shaven, roly-poly sort of
+man who did not look legal, but was a real magistrate.  He came waddling
+along in good spirits and rather pompously.  At that moment Larue
+appeared.  Presently Ingot presented the Judge to the would--be bride and
+bridegroom.  "You wish to be married-you are Mr. Grier?" said Judge
+Grimshaw.
+
+"That's me and I'm ready," said Carnac.  "Get on with the show.  What's
+the first thing?"
+
+"Well, the regular thing is to sign some forms, stating age, residence,
+etc., and here they are all ready.  Brought 'em along with me.  Most
+unusual form of ceremony, but it'll do.  It's all right.  Here are the
+papers to sign."
+
+Carnac hastily scratched in the needed information, and Luzanne doing the
+same, the magistrate pocketed the papers.
+
+"Now we can perform the ceremony," said the Judge.  "Mr. Larue, you go
+down there with the young lady and bring her up in form, and Mr. Carnac
+Grier waits here."
+
+Larue went away with Luzanne, and presently turned, and she, with her arm
+in his, came forward.  Carnac stood waiting with a smile on his face, for
+it seemed good acting.  When Luzanne came, her father handed her over,
+and the marriage ceremony proceeded.  Presently it concluded, and
+Grimshaw, who had had more drink than was good for him, wound up the
+ceremony with the words: "And may the Lord have mercy on you!"
+
+Every one laughed, Carnac kissed the bride, and the Judge handed her the
+marriage certificate duly signed.  It was now Carnac's duty to pay in the
+usual way for the ceremony, and he handed the Judge ten dollars; and
+Grimshaw rolled away towards the village, Ingot having also given him
+ten.
+
+"That's as good a piece of acting as I've ever seen," said Larue with a
+grin.  "It beats Coquelin and Henry Irving."
+
+"I didn't think there was much in it," said Carnac, laughing, "though it
+was real enough to cost me ten dollars.  One has to pay for one's fun.
+But I got a wife cheap at the price, and I didn't pay for the wedding
+ring."
+
+"No, the ring was mine," said Larue.  "I had it a long time.  It was my
+engagement ring, and I want it back now."
+
+Luzanne took it off her finger--it was much too large--and gave it to
+him.  "It's easy enough to get another," she said in a queer voice.
+
+"You did the thing in style, young man," said Ingot to Carnac with a nod.
+
+"I'll do it better when it's the real thing," said Carnac.  "I've had my
+rehearsal now, and it seemed almost real."
+
+"It was almost real," said Ingot, with his head turned away from Carnac,
+but he winked at Larue and caught a furtive look from Luzanne's eye.
+
+"I think we'd better have another hour hereabouts, then get back to New
+York," said Larue.  "There's a circus in the village--let us go to that."
+
+At the village, they did the circus, called out praise to the clown, gave
+the elephant some buns, and at five o'clock started back to New York.
+Arrived at New York, they went to a hotel off Broadway for dinner, and
+Carnac signed names in the hotel register as "Mr. and Mrs. Carnac Grier."
+When he did it, he saw a furtive glance pass from Luzanne's eyes to her
+father.  It was disconcerting to him.  Presently the two adjourned to the
+sitting-room, and there he saw that the table was only laid for two.
+That opened his eyes.  The men had disappeared and he and Luzanne were
+alone.  She was sitting on a sofa near the table, showing to good
+advantage.  She was composed, while Carnac was embarrassed.
+Carnac began to take a grip on himself.
+
+The waiter entered.  "When shall I serve dinner, sir?" he said.
+
+Carnac realized that the dinner had been ordered by the two men, and he
+said quietly: "Don't serve it for a half-hour yet--not till I ring,
+please.  Make it ready then.  There's no hurry.  It's early."
+
+The waiter bowed and withdrew with a smile, and Carnac turned to Luzanne.
+She smiled, got up, came over, laid a hand on his arm, and said: "It's
+quiet and nice here, Carnac dear," and she looked up ravishingly in his
+face.
+
+"It's too quiet and it's not at all nice," he suddenly replied.  "Your
+father and Ingot have gone.  They've left us alone on purpose.  This is a
+dirty game and I'm not going to play it any longer.  I've had enough of
+it.  I've had my fill.  I'm going now.  Come, let's go together."
+
+She looked a bit smashed and overdone.  "The dinner!" she said in
+confusion.
+
+"I'll pay for that.  We won't wait any longer.  Come on at once, please."
+
+She put on her things coolly, and he noticed a savage stealthiness as
+she pushed the long pins through her hat and hair.  He left the room.
+Outside the hotel, Carnac held out his hand.
+
+"Good night and good-bye, Luzanne," he said huskily.  "You can get home
+alone, can't you?"
+
+She laughed a little, then she said: "I guess so.  I've lived in New York
+some years.  But you and I are married, Carnac, and you ought to take me
+to your home."
+
+There was something devilish in her smile now.  Then the whole truth
+burst upon Carnac.  "Married--married!  When did I marry you?  Good God!"
+"You married me this afternoon after lunch at Shipton.  I have the
+certificate and I mean to hold you to it."
+
+"You mean to hold me to it--a real marriage to-day at Shipton!  You and
+your father and Ingot tricked me into this."
+
+"He was a real Judge, and it was a real marriage."
+
+"It is a fraud, and I'll unmask it," Carnac declared in anger.
+
+"It would be difficult to prove.  You signed our names in the hotel
+register as Mr. and Mrs. Carnac Grier.  I mean to stick to that name--
+Mrs. Carnac Grier.  I'll make you a good wife, Carnac--do believe it.
+
+"I'll believe nothing but the worst of you ever.  I'll fight the thing
+out, by God!"
+
+She shook her head and smiled.  "I meant you to marry me, when you saved
+my life from the streetcar.  I never saw but one man I wanted to marry,
+and you are that man, Carnac.  You wouldn't ask me, so I made you marry
+me.  You could go farther and fare worse.  Come, take me home--take me
+home, my love.  I want you to love me."
+
+"You little devil!" Carnac declared.  "I'd rather cut my own throat.
+I'm going to have a divorce.  I'm going to teach you and the others a
+lesson you won't forget."
+
+"There isn't a jury in the United States you could convince after what
+you've done.  You've made it impossible.  Go to Judge Grimshaw and see
+what he will say.  Go and ask the hotel people and see what they will
+say.  You're my husband, and I mean you shall live with me, and I'll love
+you better than any woman on earth can love you.  .  .  .  Won't you?"
+She held out her hand.
+
+With an angry exclamation, Carnac refused it, and then she suddenly
+turned on her heel, slipped round a corner and was gone.
+
+Carnac was dumbfounded.  He did not know what to do.  He went dazedly
+home, and slept little that night.  The next day he went out to Shipton
+and saw Judge Grimshaw and told him the whole tale.  The Judge shook his
+head.
+
+"It's too tall a story.  Why, you went through the ceremony as if it was
+the real thing, signed the papers, paid my fee, and kissed the bride.
+You could not get a divorce on such evidence.  I'm sorry for you, if you
+don't want the girl.  She's very nice, and 'd make a good wife.  What
+does she mean to do?"
+
+"I don't know.  She left me in the street and went back to her home.  I
+won't live with her."
+
+"I can't help you anyhow.  She has the certificate.  You are validly
+married.  If I were you, I'd let the matter stand."
+
+So they parted, and Carnac sullenly went back to his apartments.  The
+next day he went to see a lawyer, however.  The lawyer opened his eyes
+at the story.  He had never heard anything like it.
+
+"It doesn't sound as if you were sober when you did it.  Were you, sir?
+It was a mad prank, anyhow!"
+
+"I had been drinking, but I wasn't drunk.  I'd been telling them stories
+and they used them as a means of tempting me to act in the absurd
+marriage ceremony.  Like a fool I consented.  Like a fool--but I wasn't
+drunk."
+
+"No, but when you were in your right mind and sober you signed your names
+as Mr. and Mrs. Carnac Grier in the register of a hotel.  I will try to
+win your case for you, but it won't be easy work.  You see the Judge
+himself told you the same thing.  But it would be a triumph to expose a
+thing of that kind, and I'd like to do it.  It wouldn't be cheap, though.
+You'd have to foot the bill.  Are you rich?"
+
+"No, but my people are," said Carnac.  "I could manage the cash, but
+suppose I lost!"
+
+"Well, you'd have to support the woman.  She could sue you for cruelty
+and desertion, and the damages would be heavy."
+
+Carnac shook his head, paid his fee and left the office.
+
+He did not go near Luzanne.  After a month he went to Paris for eight
+months, and then back to Montreal.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+CARNAC'S RETURN
+
+Arrived in Montreal, there were attempts by Carnac to settle down to
+ordinary life of quiet work at his art, but it was not effective, nor had
+it been in Paris, though the excitement of working in the great centre
+had stimulated him.  He ever kept saying to himself, "Carnac, you are a
+married man--a married man, by the tricks of rogues!"  In Paris, he could
+more easily obscure it, but in Montreal, a few hundred miles from the
+place of his tragedy, pessimism seized him.  He now repented he did not
+fight it out at once.  It would have been courageous and perhaps
+successful.  But whether successful or not, he would have put himself
+right with his own conscience.  That was the chief thing.  He was
+straightforward, and back again in Canada, Carnac flung reproaches at
+himself.
+
+He knew himself now to be in love with Junia Shale, and because he was
+married he could not approach her.  It galled him.  He was not fond of
+Fabian, for they had little in common, and he had no intimate friends.
+Only his mother was always sympathetic to him, and he loved her.  He saw
+much of her, but little of anyone else.  He belonged to no clubs, and
+there were few artists in Montreal.  So he lived his own life, and when
+he met Junia he cavilled at himself for his madness with Luzanne.  The
+curious thing was he had not had a word from her since the day of the
+mock marriage.  Perhaps she had decided to abandon the thing!  But that
+could do no good, for there was the marriage recorded in the registers of
+New York State.
+
+Meanwhile, things were not going well with others.  There befell a day
+when matters came to a crisis in the Grier family.  Since Fabian's
+marriage with Junia Shale's sister, Sybil, he had become discontented
+with his position in his father's firm.  There was little love between
+him and his father, and that was chiefly the father's fault.  One day,
+the old man stormed at Fabian because of a mistake in the management,
+and was foolish enough to say that Fabian had lost his grip since his
+marriage.
+
+Fabian, enraged, demanded freedom from the partnership, and offered to
+sell his share.  In a fit of anger, the old man offered him what was at
+least ten per cent more than the value of Fabian's share.  The sombre
+Fabian had the offer transferred to paper at once, and it was signed by
+his father--not without compunction, because difficult as Fabian was
+he might go further and fare worse.  As for Fabian's dark-haired, brown-
+faced, brown-eyed wife, to John Grier's mind, it seemed a good thing to
+be rid of her.
+
+When Fabian left the father alone in his office, however, the stark
+temper of the old man broke down.  He had had enough.  He muttered to
+himself.  Presently he was roused by a little knock at the door.  It was
+Junia, brilliant, buoyant, yellow haired, with bright brown eyes,
+tingling cheeks, and white laughing teeth that showed against her red
+lips.  She held up a finger at him.
+
+"I know what you've done, and it's no good at all.  You can't live
+without us, and you mustn't," she said.  The old man glowered still, but
+a reflective smile crawled to his lips.  "No, it's finished," he replied.
+
+"It had to come, and it's done.  It can't be changed.  Fabian wouldn't
+alter it, and I shan't."
+
+His face was stern and dour.  He tangled his short fingers in the hair on
+top of his head.
+
+"I wouldn't say that, if I were you," she responded cheerily.  "Fabian
+showed me the sum you offered for his share.  It's ridiculous.  The
+business isn't worth it."
+
+"What do you know about the business?" remarked the other.
+
+"Well, whatever it was worth an hour ago, it's worth less now," she
+answered with suggestion.  "It's worth much less now," she added.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" he asked sharply, sitting upright, his hands
+clasping his knees almost violently, his clean-shaven face showing lines
+of trouble.
+
+"I mean he's going to join the enemy," she answered quickly.
+
+"Join the enemy!" broke from the old man's lips with a startled accent.
+
+"Yes, the firm of Belloc."
+
+The old man did not speak, but a curious whiteness stole over his face.
+"What makes you say that!" he exclaimed, anger in his eyes.
+
+"Well, Fabian has to put money into something," she answered, "and the
+only business he knows is lumber business.  Don't you think it's natural
+he should go to Belloc?"
+
+"Did he ever say so?" asked the old man with savage sullenness.  "Tell
+me.  Did he ever say so?"
+
+The girl shook back her brave head with a laugh.  "Of course he never
+said so, but I know the way he'll go."
+
+
+The old man shook his head.  "I don't believe it.  He's got no love for
+Belloc."
+
+The girl felt like saying, "He's got no love for you," but she refrained.
+She knew that Fabian had love for his father, but he had inherited a love
+for business, and that would overwhelm all other feelings.  She therefore
+said:  "Why don't you get Carnac to come in?  He's got more sense than
+Fabian--and he isn't married!"
+
+She spoke boldly, for she knew the character of the man.  She was only
+nineteen.  She had always come in and gone out of Grier's house and
+office freely and much more since her sister had married Fabian.
+
+A storm gathered between the old man's eyes; his brow knitted.  "Carnac's
+got brains enough, but he goes monkeying about with pictures and statues
+till he's worth naught in the business of life."
+
+"I don't think you understand him," the girl replied.  "I've been trying
+to understand him for twenty-five years," the other said malevolently.
+"He might have been a big man.  He might have bossed this business when
+I'm gone.  It's in him, but he's a fly-away--he's got no sense.  The
+ideas he's got make me sick.  He talks like a damn fool sometimes."
+
+"But if he's a 'damn fool'--is it strange?" She gaily tossed a kiss at
+the king of the lumber world.  "The difference between you and him is
+this: he doesn't care about the things of this world, and you do; but
+he's one of the ablest men in Canada.  If Fabian won't come back, why not
+Carnac?"
+
+"We've never hit it off."
+
+Suddenly he stood up, his face flushed, his hands outthrust themselves in
+rage, his fingers opened and shut in abandonment of temper.
+
+"Why have I two such sons!" he exclaimed.  "I've not been bad.  I've
+squeezed a few; I've struck here and there; I've mauled my enemies, but
+I've been good to my own.  Why can't I run square with my own family?"
+He was purple to the roots of his hair.
+
+Savagery possessed him.  Life was testing him to the nth degree.  "I've
+been a good father, and a good husband!  Why am I treated like this?"
+
+She watched him silently.  Presently, however, the storm seemed to pass.
+He appeared to gain control of himself.
+
+"You want me to have in Carnac?" he asked, with a little fleck of foam
+at the corners of his mouth.
+
+"If you could have Fabian back," she remarked, "but you can't!  It's been
+coming for a long time.  He's got your I.O.U. and he won't return; but
+Carnac's got plenty of stuff in him.  He never was afraid of anything or
+anybody, and if he took a notion, he could do this business as well as
+yourself by and by.  It's all a chance, but if he comes in he'll put
+everything else aside."
+
+"Where is he?" the old man asked.  "He's with his mother at your home."
+
+The old man took his hat from the window-sill.  At that moment a clerk
+appeared with some papers.  "What have you got there?" asked Grier
+sharply.  "The Belloc account for the trouble on the river," answered the
+clerk.
+
+"Give it me," Grier said, and he waved the clerk away.  Then he glanced
+at the account, and a grim smile passed over his face.  "They can't have
+all they want, and they won't get it.  Are you coming with me?" he asked
+of the girl, with a set look in his eyes.  "No.  I'm going back to my
+sister," she answered.
+
+"If he leaves me--if he joins Belloc!" the old man muttered, and again
+his face flushed.
+
+A few moments afterwards the girl watched him till he disappeared up the
+hill.
+
+"I don't believe Carnac will do it," she said to herself.  "He's got the
+sense, the brains, and the energy; but he won't do it."
+
+She heard a voice behind her, and turned.  It was the deformed but potent
+Denzil.  He was greyer now.  His head, a little to one side, seemed sunk
+in his square shoulders, but his eyes were bright.
+
+"It's all a bad scrape--that about Fabian Grier," he said.  "You can't
+ever tell about such things, how they'll go--but no, bagosh!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE HOUSE ON THE HILL
+
+John Grier's house had a porch with Corinthian pillars.  Its elevation
+was noble, but it was rather crudely built, and it needed its grove of
+maples to make it pleasant to the eye.  It was large but not too ample,
+and it had certain rooms with distinct character.
+
+Inside the house, John Grier paused a moment before the door of the
+sitting-room where his wife usually sat.  All was silent.  He opened the
+door.  A woman rose to meet him.  She was dressed in black.  Her dark
+hair, slightly streaked with grey, gave her distinction.  Her eyes had
+soft understanding; her lips had a reflective smile.  There was, however,
+uneasiness in her face; her fingers slightly trembled on the linen she
+was holding.
+
+"You're home early, John," she said in a gentle, reserved voice.
+
+He twisted a shoulder.  "Yes, I'm home early," he snapped.  "Your boy
+Fabian has left the business, and I've bought his share."  He named the
+sum.  "Ghastly, ain't it?  But he's gone, and there's no more about it.
+It's a bad thing to marry a woman that can't play fair."
+
+He noted the excessive paleness of his wife's face; the bright eyes
+stared and stared, and the lips trembled.  "Fabian--Fabian gone!" she
+said brokenly.
+
+"Yes, and he ain't coming back."
+
+"What's he going to do?" she asked in a bitter voice.
+
+"Join Belloc--fight his own father--try to do me in the race," growled
+the old man.
+
+"Who told you that?"  "Junia, she told me."
+
+"What does she know about it?  Who told her that?" asked the woman with
+faded lips.
+
+"She always had sense, that child.  I wish she was a man."
+
+He suddenly ground his heel, and there was distemper in face and voice;
+his shoulders hunched; his hands were thrust down in his pockets.  He
+wheeled on her.  "Where's your other boy?  Where's Carnac?"
+
+The woman pointed to the lawn.  "He's catching a bit of the city from the
+hill just beyond the pear-tree."
+
+"Painting, eh?  I heard he was here.  I want to talk to him."
+
+"I don't think it will do any good," was the sad reply.  "He doesn't
+think as you do."
+
+"You believe he's a genius," snarled the other.
+
+"You know he is."
+
+"I'll go and find him."
+
+She nodded.  "I wish you luck," she said, but there was no conviction in
+her tone.  Truth was, she did not wish him luck in this.  She watched him
+leave by the French window and stride across the lawn.  A strange,
+troubled expression was in her face.
+
+"They can't pull it off together," she said to herself, and Carnac is too
+full of independence.  He wants nothing from anybody.  He needs no one;
+he follows no one--except me.  Yes, he follows--he loves me.
+
+She watched her husband till he almost viciously thrust aside the bushes
+staying his progress, and broke into the space by the pear-tree where
+Carnac sat with palette and brush, gazing at the distant roofs on which
+the sun was leaving its last kiss.
+
+Carnac got to his feet with a smile, and with a courage in his eye equal
+to that which had ever been in his father's face--in the face of John
+Grier.  It was strange that the other's presence troubled him, that even
+as a small child, to be in the same room for any length of time vexed
+him.  Much of that had passed away.  The independence of the life he
+lived, the freedom from resting upon the financial will of the lumber
+king had given him light, air and confidence.  He loved his mother.  What
+he felt for John Grier was respect and admiration.  He knew he was not
+spoken to now with any indolent purpose.
+
+They had seen little of each other of late years.  His mother had given
+him the money to go to New York and Paris, which helped out his own
+limited income.  He wondered what should bring his father to him now.
+There was interested reflection in his eye.  With his habit of
+visualization, he saw behind John Grier, as he came on now, the long
+procession of logs and timbers which had made his fortune, stretch back
+on the broad St. Lawrence, from the Mattawan to the Madawaska, from the
+Richelieu to the Marmora.  Yet, what was it John Grier had done?  In a
+narrow field he had organized his life perfectly, had developed his
+opportunities, had safeguarded his every move.  The smiling inquiry in
+his face was answered by the old man saying abruptly:
+
+"Fabian's gone.  He's deserted the ship."
+
+The young man had the wish to say in reply, "At last, eh!" but he
+avoided it.
+
+"Where has he gone?"
+
+"I bought him out to-day, and I hear he's going to join Belloc."
+
+"Belloc!  Belloc!  Who told you that?" asked the young man.
+
+"Junia Shale--she told me."
+
+Carnac laughed.  "She knows a lot, but how did she know that?"
+
+"Sheer instinct, and I believe she's right."
+
+"Right--right--to fight you, his own father!" was the inflammable reply.
+
+"Why, that would be a lowdown business!"
+
+"Would it be lower down than your not helping your father, when you can?"
+
+Somehow he yearned over his wayward, fantastic son.  The wilful, splendid
+character of the youth overcame the insistence in the other's nature.
+
+"You seem to be getting on all right," remarked Carnac with the faint
+brown moustache, the fine, showy teeth, the clean-shaven cheeks, and
+auburn hair hanging loosely down.
+
+"You're wrong.  Things aren't doing as well with me as they might.
+Belloc and the others make difficult going.  I've got too much to do
+myself.  I want help."
+
+"You had it in Fabian," remarked Carnac dryly.  "Well, I've lost it, and
+it never was enough.  He hadn't vision, sense and decision."
+
+"And so you come to me, eh?  I always thought you despised me," said
+Carnac.
+
+A half-tender, half-repellent expression came into the old man's face.
+He spoke bluntly.  "I always thought you had three times the brains of
+your brother.  You're not like me, and you're not like your mother;
+there's something in you that means vision, and seeing things, and doing
+them.  If fifteen thousand dollars a year and a share in the business is
+any good to you--"
+
+For an instant there had been pleasure and wonder in the young man's
+eyes, but at the sound of the money and the share in the business he
+shrank back.
+
+"I don't think so, father.  I'm happy enough.  I've got all I want."
+
+"What the devil are you talking about!" the other burst out.  "You've
+got all you want!  You've no home; you've no wife; you've no children;
+you've no place.  You paint, and you sculp, and what's the good of it
+all?  Have you ever thought of that?  What's there in it for you or
+anyone else?  Have you no blood and bones, no sting of life in you?  Look
+what I've done.  I started with little, and I've built up a business
+that, if it goes all right, will be worth millions.  I say, if it goes
+all right, because I've got to carry more than I ought."
+
+Carnac shook his head.  "I couldn't be any help to you.  I'm not a man
+of action.  I think, I devise, but I don't act.  I'd be no good in your
+business no, honestly, I'd be no good.  I don't think money is the end
+of life.  I don't think success is compensation for all you've done and
+still must do.  I want to stand out of it.  You've had your life; you've
+lived it where you wanted to live it.  I haven't, and I'm trying to find
+out where my duty and my labour lies.  It is Art; no doubt.  I don't know
+for sure."
+
+"Good God!" broke in the old man.  "You don't know for sure--you're
+twenty-five years old, and you don't know where you're going!"
+
+"Yes, I know where I'm going--to Heaven by and by!"  This was his
+satirical reply.
+
+"Oh, fasten down; get hold of something that matters.  Now, listen to me.
+I want you to do one thing--the thing I ought to do and can't.  I must
+stay here now that Fabian's gone.  I want you to go to the Madawaska
+River."
+
+"No, I won't go to the Madawaska," replied Carnac after a long pause,
+"but"--with sudden resolution--"if it's any good to you, I'll stay here
+in the business, and you can go to the Madawaska.  Show me what to do
+here; tell me how to do it, and I'll try to help you out for a while--
+if it can be done," he added hastily.  "You go, but I'll stay.  Let's
+talk it over at supper."
+
+He sighed, and turned and gazed warmly at the sunset on the roofs of the
+city; then turned to his father's face, but it was not the same look in
+his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+CARNAC AS MANAGER
+
+Carnac was installed in the office, and John Grier went to the Madawaska.
+Before he left, however, he was with Carnac for near a week, showing the
+procedure and the main questions that might arise to be solved.
+
+"It's like this," said Grier in their last talk, "you've got to keep a
+stiff hand over the foremen and overseers, and have strict watch of
+Belloc & Co.  Perhaps there will be trouble when I've gone, but, if it
+does, keep a stiff upper lip, and don't let the gang do you.  You've got
+a quick mind and you know how to act sudden.  Act at once, and damn the
+consequences!  Remember, John Grier's firm has a reputation, and deal
+justly, but firmly, with opposition.  The way it's organized, the
+business almost runs itself.  But that's only when the man at the head
+keeps his finger on the piston-rod.  You savvy, don't you?"
+
+"I savvy all right.  If the Belloc firm cuts up rusty, I'll think of what
+you'd do and try to do it in the same way."
+
+The old man smiled.  He liked the spirit in Carnac.  It was the right
+kind for his business.  "I predict this: if you have one fight with the
+Belloc lot, you'll hate them too.  Keep the flag flying.  Don't get
+rattled.  It's a big job, and it's worth doing in a big way.
+
+"Yes, it's a big job," said Carnac.  "I hope I'll pull it off."
+
+"You'll pull it off, if you bend your mind to it.  But there won't be any
+time for your little pictures and statues.  You'll have to deal with the
+real men, and they'll lose their glamour.  That's the thing about
+business--it's death to sentimentality."
+
+Carnac flushed with indignation.  "So you think Titian and Velasquez and
+Goyot and El Greco and Watteau and Van Dyck and Rembrandt and all the
+rest were sentimentalists, do you?  The biggest men in the world worship
+them.  You aren't just to the greatest intellects.  I suppose Shakespeare
+was a sentimentalist!"
+
+The old man laughed and tapped his son on the shoulder.
+
+"Don't get excited, Carnac.  I'd rather you ran my business well, than be
+Titian or Rembrandt, whoever they were.  If you do this job well, I'll
+think there's a good chance of our working together."
+
+Carnac nodded, but the thought that he could not paint or sculp when he
+was on this work vexed him, and he only set his teeth to see it through.
+"All right, we'll see," he said, and his father went away.
+
+Then Carnac's time of work and trial began.  He was familiar with the
+routine of the business, he had adaptability, he was a quick worker, and
+for a fortnight things went swimmingly.  There was elation in doing work
+not his regular job, and he knew the eyes of the commercial and river
+world were on him.  He did his best and it was an effective best.  Junia
+had been in the City of Quebec, but she came back at the end of a
+fortnight, and went to his office to get a subscription for a local
+charity.  She had a gift in this kind of work.
+
+It was a sunny day in the month of June, and as she entered the office a
+new spirit seemed to enter with her.
+
+The place became distinguished.  She stood in the doorway for a moment,
+radiant, smiling, half embarrassed, then she said: "Please may I for a
+moment, Carnac?"
+
+Carnac was delighted.  "For many moments, Junia."
+
+"I'm not as busy as usual.  I'm glad as glad to see you."
+
+She said with restraint:  "Not for many moments.  I'm here on business.
+It's important.  I wanted to get a subscription from John Grier for the
+Sailors' Hospital which is in a bad way.  Will you give something for
+him?"
+
+Carnac looked at the subscription list.  "I see you've been to Belloc
+first and they've given a hundred dollars.  Was that wise-going to them
+first?  You know how my father feels about Belloc.  And we're the older
+firm."
+
+The girl laughed.  "Oh, that's silly!  Belloc's money is as good as John
+Grier's, and it only happened he was asked first because Fabian was
+present when I took the list, and it's Fabian's writing on the paper
+there."
+
+Carnac nodded.  "That's all right with me, for I'm no foe to Belloc, but
+my father wouldn't have liked it.  He wouldn't have given anything in the
+circumstances."
+
+"Oh, yes, he would!  He's got sense with all his prejudices.  I'll tell
+you what he'd have done: he'd have given a bigger subscription than
+Belloc."
+
+Carnac laughed.  "Well, perhaps you're right; it was clever planning it
+so."
+
+"I didn't plan it.  It was accident, but I had to consider everything and
+I saw how to turn it to account.  So, if you are going to give a
+subscription for John Grier you must do as he would do."
+
+Carnac smiled, put the paper on his desk, and took the pen.
+
+"Make it measure the hate John Grier has to the Belloc firm," she said
+ironically.
+
+Carnac chuckled and wrote.  "Will that do?"  He handed her the paper.
+
+"One hundred and fifty dollars--oh, quite, quite good!" she said.
+"But it's only a half hatred after all.  I'd have made it a whole one."
+
+"You'd have expected John Grier to give two hundred, eh?  But that would
+have been too plain.  It looks all right now, and it must go at that."
+
+She smiled.  "Well, it'll go at that.  You're a good business man.  I see
+you've given up your painting and sculping to do this!  It will please
+your father, but are you satisfied?"
+
+"Satisfied--of course, I'm not; and you know it.  I'm not a money-
+grabber.  I'm an artist if I'm anything, and I'm not doing this
+permanently.  I'm only helping my father while he's in a hole."
+
+The girl suddenly grew serious.  "You mean you're not going to stick to
+the business, and take Fabian's place in it?  He's been for a week with
+Belloc and he's never coming back here.  You have the brains for it; and
+you could make your father happy and inherit his fortune--all of it."
+
+Carnac flushed indignantly.  "I suppose I could, but it isn't big enough
+for me.  I'd rather do one picture that the Luxembourg or the London
+National Gallery would buy than own this whole business.  That's the turn
+of my mind."
+
+"Yes, but if you didn't sell a picture to the Luxembourg or the National
+Gallery.  What then?"
+
+"I'd have a good try for it, that's all.  Do you want me to give up Art
+and take to commerce?  Is that your view?"
+
+"I suggested to John Grier the day that Fabian sold his share that you
+might take his place; and I still think it a good thing, though, of
+course, I like your painting.  But I felt sorry for your father with none
+of his own family to help him; and I thought you might stay with him for
+your family's sake."
+
+"You thought I'd be a martyr for love of John Grier--and cold cash, did
+you?  That isn't the way the blood runs in my veins.  I think John Grier
+might get out of the business now, if he's tired, and sell it and let
+some one else run it.  John Grier is not in want.  If he were, I'd give
+up everything to help him, and I'd not think I was a martyr.  But I've a
+right to make my own career.  It's making the career one likes which gets
+one in the marrow.  I'd take my chances of success as he did.  He has
+enough to live on, he's had success; let him get down and out, if he's
+tired."
+
+The girl held herself firmly.  "Remember John Grier has made a great name
+for himself--as great in his way as Andrew Carnegie or Pierpont Morgan--
+and he's got pride in his name.  He wants his son to carry it on, and in
+a way he's right."
+
+"That's good argument," said Carnac, "but if his name isn't strong enough
+to carry itself, his son can't carry it for him.  That's the way of life.
+How many sons have ever added to their father's fame?  The instances are
+very few.  In the modern world, I can only think of the Pitts in England.
+There's no one else."
+
+The girl now smiled again.  The best part in her was stirred.  She saw.
+Her mind changed.  After a moment she said:  "I think you're altogether
+right about it.  Carnac, you have your own career to make, so make it
+as it best suits yourself.  I'm sorry I spoke to your father as I did.
+I pitied him, and I thought you'd find scope for your talents in the
+business.  It's a big game, but I see now it isn't yours, Carnac."
+
+He nodded, smiling.  "That's it; that's it, I hate the whole thing."
+
+She shook hands.  As his hand enclosed her long slim fingers, he felt he
+wished never to let them go, they were so thrilling; but he did, for the
+thought of Luzanne came to his mind.
+
+"Good-bye, Junia, and don't forget that John Grier's firm is the foe of
+the Belloc business," he said satirically.
+
+She laughed, and went down the hill quickly, and as she went Carnac
+thought he had never seen so graceful a figure.
+
+"What an evil Fate sent Luzanne my way!" he said.
+
+Two days later there came an ugly incident on the river.  There was a
+collision between a gang of John Grier's and Belloc's men and one of
+Grier's men was killed.  At the inquest, it was found that the man met
+his death by his own fault, having first attacked a Belloc man and
+injured him.  The Belloc man showed the injury to the jury, and he was
+acquitted.  Carnac watched the case closely, and instructed his lawyer to
+contend that the general attack was first made by Belloc's men, which was
+true; but the jury decided that this did not affect the individual case,
+and that the John Grier man met his death by his own fault.
+
+"A shocking verdict!" he said aloud in the Court when it was given.
+
+"Sir," said the Coroner, "it is the verdict of men who use their judgment
+after hearing the evidence, and your remark is offensive and criminal."
+
+"If it is criminal, I apologize," said Carnac.
+
+"You must apologize for its offensiveness, or you will be arrested, sir."
+
+This nettled Carnac.  "I will not apologize for its offensiveness," he
+said firmly.
+
+"Constable, arrest this man," said the Coroner, and the constable did so.
+
+"May I be released on bail?" asked Carnac with a smile.
+
+"I am a magistrate.  Yes, you may be released on bail," said the Coroner.
+
+Carnac bowed, and at once a neighbour became security for three thousand
+dollars.  Then Carnac bowed again and left the Court with--it was plain--
+the goodwill of most people present.
+
+Carnac returned to his office with angry feelings at his heart.  The
+Belloc man ought to have been arrested for manslaughter, he thought.  In
+any case, he had upheld the honour of John Grier's firm by his protest,
+and the newspapers spoke not unfavourably of him in their reports.  They
+said he was a man of courage to say what he did, though it was improper,
+from a legal standpoint.  But human nature was human nature!
+
+The trial took place in five days, and Carnac was fined twenty-five
+cents, which was in effect a verdict of not guilty; and so the newspapers
+said.  It was decided that the offence was only legally improper, and it
+was natural that Carnac expressed himself strongly.
+
+Junia was present at the trial.  After it was over, she saw Carnac for a
+moment.  "I think your firm can just pay the price and exist!" she said.
+"It's a terrible sum, and it shows how great a criminal you are!"
+
+"Not a 'thirty-cent' criminal, anyhow," said Carnac.  "It is a moral
+victory, and tell Fabian so.  He's a bit huffy because I got into the
+trouble, I suppose."
+
+"No, he loathed it all.  He's sorry it occurred."
+
+There was no further talk between them, for a subordinate of Carnac's
+came hurriedly to him and said something which Junia did not hear.
+Carnac raised his hat to her, and hurried away.
+
+"Well, it's not so easy as painting pictures," she said.  "He gets fussed
+over these things."
+
+It was later announced by the manager of the main mill that there was
+to be a meeting of workers to agitate for a strike for higher pay.  A
+French-Canadian who had worked in the mills of Maine and who was a red-
+hot socialist was the cause of it.  He had only been in the mills for
+about three months and had spent his spare time inciting well-satisfied
+workmen to strike.  His name was Luc Baste--a shock-haired criminal with
+a huge chest and a big voice, and a born filibuster.  The meeting was
+held and a deputation was appointed to wait on Carnac at his office.
+Word was sent to Carnac, and he said he would see them after the work was
+done for the day.  So in the evening about seven o'clock the deputation
+of six men came, headed by Luc Baste.
+
+"Well, what is it?" Carnac asked calmly.
+
+Luc Baste began, not a statement of facts, but an oration on the rights
+of workers, their downtrodden condition and their beggarly wages.  He
+said they had not enough to keep body and soul together, and that right
+well did their employers know it.  He said there should be an increase of
+a half-dollar a day, or there would be a strike.
+
+Carnac dealt with the matter quickly and quietly.  He said Luc Baste had
+not been among them a long time and evidently did not know what was the
+cost of living in Montreal.  He said the men got good wages, and in any
+case it was not for him to settle a thing of such importance.  This was
+for the head of the firm, John Grier, when he returned.  The wages had
+been raised two years before, and he doubted that John Grier would
+consent to a further rise.  All other men on the river seemed satisfied
+and he doubted these ought to have a cent more a day.  They were getting
+the full value of the work.  He begged all present to think twice before
+they brought about catastrophe.  It would be a catastrophe if John
+Grier's mills should stop working and Belloc's mills should go on as
+before.  It was not like Grier's men to do this sort of thing.
+
+The men seemed impressed, and, presently, after one of them thanking him,
+the deputation withdrew, Luc Baste talking excitedly as they went.  The
+manager of the main mill, with grave face, said:
+
+"No, Mr. Grier, I don't think they'll be satisfied.  You said all that
+could be said, but I think they'll strike after all."
+
+"Well, I hope it won't occur before John Grier gets back," said Carnac.
+
+That night a strike was declared.
+
+Fortunately, only about two-thirds of the men came out, and it could not
+be called a complete success.  The Belloc people were delighted, but they
+lived in daily fear of a strike in their own yards, for agitators were
+busy amongst their workmen.  But the workers waited to see what would
+happen to Grier's men.
+
+Carnac declined to reconsider.  The wages were sufficient and the strike
+unwarranted!  He kept cool, even good-natured, and with only one-third of
+his men at work, he kept things going, and the business went on with
+regularity, if with smaller output.  The Press unanimously supported him,
+for it was felt the strike had its origin in foreign influence, and as
+French Canada had no love for the United States there was journalistic
+opposition to the strike.  Carnac had telegraphed to his father when the
+strike started, but did not urge him to come back.  He knew that Grier
+could do nothing more than he himself was doing, and he dreaded new
+influence over the strikers.  Grier happened to be in the backwoods and
+did not get word for nearly a week; then he wired asking Carnac what the
+present situation was.  Carnac replied he was standing firm, that he
+would not yield a cent increase in wages, and that, so far, all was
+quiet.
+
+It happened, however, that on the day he wired, the strikers tried to
+prevent the non-strikers from going to work and there was a collision.
+The police and a local company of volunteers intervened and then the
+Press condemned unsparingly the whole affair.  This outbreak did good,
+and Luc Baste was arrested for provoking disorder.  No one else was
+arrested, and this was a good thing, for, on the whole, even the men
+that followed Luc did not trust him.  His arrest cleared the air and
+the strike broke.  The next day, all the strikers returned, but Carnac
+refused their wages for the time they were on strike, and he had
+triumphed.
+
+On that very day John Grier started back to Montreal.  He arrived in
+about four days, and when he came, found everything in order.  He went
+straight from his home to the mill and there found Carnac in control.
+
+"Had trouble, eh, Carnac?" he asked with a grin, after a moment of
+greeting.  Carnac shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing.
+
+"It's the first strike I ever had in my mills, and I hope it will be the
+last.  I don't believe in knuckling down to labour tyranny, and I'm glad
+you kept your hand steady.  There'll be no more strikes in my mills--I'll
+see to that!"
+
+"They've only just begun, and they'll go on, father.  It's the influence
+of Canucs who have gone to the factories of Maine.  They get bitten there
+with the socialistic craze, and they come back and make trouble.  This
+strike was started by Luc Baste, a French-Canadian, who had been in
+Maine.  You can't stop these things by saying so.  There was no strike
+among Belloc's men!"
+
+"No, but did you have no trouble with Belloc's men?"
+
+Carnac told him of the death of the Grier man after the collision, of his
+own arrest and fine of twenty-five cents and of the attitude of the
+public and the Press.  The old man was jubilant.  "Say, you did the thing
+in style.  It was the only way to do it.  You landed 'em with the protest
+fair and easy.  You're going to be a success in the business, I can see
+that."
+
+Carnac for a moment looked at his father meditatively.  Then, seeing the
+surprise in John Grier's face, he said: "No, I'm not going to be a
+success in it, for I'm not going on with it.  I've had enough.  I'm
+through."
+
+"You've had enough--you're through--just when you've proved you can do
+things as well as I can do them!  You ain't going on!  Great
+Jehoshaphat!"
+
+"I mean it; I'm not going on.  I'm going to quit in another month.
+I can't stick it.  It galls me.  It ain't my job.  I do it, but it's
+artificial, it ain't the real thing.  My heart isn't in it as yours is,
+and I'd go mad if I had to do this all my life.  It's full of excitement
+at times, it's hard work, it's stimulating when you're fighting, but
+other times it's deadly dull and bores me stiff.  I feel as though I were
+pulling a train of cars."
+
+Slowly the old man's face reddened with anger.  "It bores you stiff, eh?
+It's deadly dull at times!  There's only interest in it when there's a
+fight on, eh?  You're right; you're not fit for the job, never was and
+never will be while your mind is what it is.  Don't take a month to go,
+don't take a week, or a day, go this morning after I've got your report
+on what's been done.  It ain't the real thing, eh?  No, it ain't.  It's
+no place for you.  Tell me all there is to tell, and get out; I've had
+enough too, I've had my fill.  'It bores me stiff'!"
+
+John Grier was in a rage, and he would listen to no explanation.  "Come
+now, out with your report."
+
+Carnac was not upset.  He kept cool.  "No need to be so crusty," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+LUKE TARBOE HAS AN OFFER
+
+Many a man behind his horses' tails on the countryside has watched the
+wild reckless life of the water with wonder and admiration.  He sees a
+cluster of logs gather and climb, and still gather and climb, and between
+him and that cluster is a rolling waste of timber, round and square.
+
+Suddenly, a being with a red shirt, with loose prairie kind of hat, knee-
+boots, having metal clamps, strikes out from the shore, running on the
+tops of the moving logs till he reaches the jam.  Then the pike-pole, or
+the lever, reaches the heart of the difficulty, and presently the jam
+breaks, and the logs go tumbling into the main, while the vicious-looking
+berserker of the water runs back to the shore over the logs, safe and
+sound.  It is a marvel to the spectator, that men should manipulate the
+river so.  To him it is a life apart; not belonging to the life he lives
+-a passing show.
+
+It was a stark surprise of the river which makes this story possible.
+There was a strike at Bunder's Boom--as it was called--between Bunder and
+Grier's men.  Some foreman of Grier's gang had been needlessly offensive.
+Bunder had been stupidly resentful.  When Grier's men had tried to force
+his hand also, he had resisted.  It chanced that, when an impasse seemed
+possible to be broken only by force, a telegram came to John Grier at
+Montreal telling him of the difficulty.  He lost no time in making his
+way northwards.
+
+But some one else had come upon the scene.  It was Luke Tarboe.  He had
+arrived at a moment when the Belloc river crowd had almost wrecked
+Bunder's Boom, and when a collision between the two gangs seemed
+inevitable.  What he did remained a river legend.  By good temper and
+adroitness, he reconciled the leaders of the two gangs; he bought the
+freedom of the river by a present to Bunder's daughter; he won Bunder
+by four bottles of "Three Star" brandy.  When the police from a town a
+hundred miles away arrived at the same time as John Grier, it was
+to find the Grier and Belloc gangs peacefully prodding side by side.
+
+When the police had gone, John Grier looked Tarboe up and down.  The
+brown face, the clear, strong brown eyes and the brown hatless head rose
+up eighteen inches above his own, making a gallant summit to a robust
+stalk.
+
+"Well, you've done easier things than that in your time, eh?" John Grier
+asked.
+
+Tarboe nodded.  "It was touch and go.  I guess it was the hardest thing I
+ever tried since I've been working for you, but it's come off all right,
+hasn't it?"  He waved a hand to the workmen on the river, to the tumbling
+rushes of logs and timber.  Then he looked far up the stream, with hand
+shading his brown eyes to where a crib-or raft-was following the eager
+stream of logs.  "It's easy going now," he added, and his face had a look
+of pleasure.
+
+"What's your position, and what's your name?" asked John Grier.
+
+"I'm head-foreman of the Skunk Nest's gang--that's this lot, and I got
+here--just in time!  I don't believe you could have done it, Mr. Grier.
+No master is popular in the real sense with his men.  I think they'd have
+turned you down.  So it was lucky I came."
+
+A faint smile hovered at his lips, and his eyes brooded upon the busy
+gangs of men.  "Yes, I've had a lot of luck this time.  There's nothing
+like keeping your head cool and your belly free from drink."  Now he
+laughed broadly.  "By gosh, it's all good!  Do you know, Mr. Grier, I
+came out here a wreck eight years ago.  I left Montreal then with a spot
+in my lungs, that would kill me, they said.  I've never seen Montreal
+since, but I've had a good time out in the woods, in the shanties in the
+winters; on the rivers in the summer.  I've only been as far East as this
+in eight years."
+
+"What do you do in the winter, then?"
+
+"Shanties-shanties all the time.  In the summer this; in the Fall taking
+the men back to the shanties.  Bossing the lot; doing it from love of the
+life that's been given back to me.  Yes, this is the life that makes you
+take things easy.  You don't get fussed out here.  The job I had took a
+bit of doing, but it was done, and I'm lucky to have my boss see the end
+of it."
+
+He smiled benignly upon John Grier.  He knew he was valuable to the Grier
+organization; he knew that Grier had heard of him under another name.
+Now Grier had seen him, and he felt he would like to tell John Grier some
+things about the river he ought to know.  He waved a hand declining the
+cigar offered him by his great chief.
+
+"Thanks, I don't smoke, and I don't drink, and I don't chew; but I eat
+--by gosh, I eat!  Nothing's so good as good food, except good reading."
+
+"Good reading!" exclaimed John Grier.  "Good reading--on the river!"
+
+"Well, it's worked all right, and I read a lot.  I get books from
+Montreal, from the old library at the University."
+
+"At what University?" struck in the lumber-king.  "Oh, Laval!  I
+wouldn't go to McGill.  I wanted to know French, so I went to Laval.
+There I came to know Father Labasse.  He was a great man, Father Labasse.
+He helped me.  I was there three years, and then was told I was going to
+die.  It was Labasse who gave me this tip.  He said, 'Go into the woods;
+put your teeth into the trees; eat the wild herbs, and don't come back
+till you feel well.' Well, I haven't gone back, and I'm not going back."
+
+"What do you do with your wages?" asked the lumber-king.
+
+"I bought land.  I've got a farm of four hundred acres twenty miles from
+here.  I've got a man on it working it."
+
+"Does it pay?"
+
+"Of course.  Do you suppose I'd keep a farm that didn't pay?"
+
+"Who runs it?"
+
+"A man that broke his leg on the river.  One of Belloc's men.  He knows
+all about farming.  He brought his wife and three children up, and there
+he is--making money, and making the land good.  I've made him a partner
+at last.  When it's good enough by and by, I'll probably go and live
+there myself.  Anybody ought to make farming a success, if there's water
+and proper wood and such things," he added.
+
+There was silence for a few moments.  Then John Grier looked Tarboe up
+and down sharply again, noting the splendid physique, the quizzical,
+mirth-provoking eye, and said: "I can give you a better job if you'll
+come to Montreal."
+
+Tarboe shook his head.  "Haven't had a sick day for eight years; I'm as
+hard as nails; I'm as strong as steel.  I love this wild world of the
+woods and fields and--"
+
+"And the shebangs and grog-shops and the dirty, drunken villages?"
+interrupted the old man.
+
+"No, they don't count.  I take them in, but they don't count."
+
+"Didn't you have hard times when you first came?" asked John Grier.
+"Did you get right with the men from the start?"
+
+"A little bit of care is a good thing in any life.  I told them good
+stories, and they liked that.  I used to make the stories up, and they
+liked that also.  When I added some swear words they liked them all the
+better.  I learned how to do it."
+
+"Yes, I've heard of you, but not as Tarboe."
+
+"You heard of me as Renton, eh?"
+
+"Yes, as Renton.  I wonder I never came across you till to-day."
+
+"I kept out of your way; that was the reason.  When you came north, I got
+farther into the backwoods."
+
+"Are you absolutely straight, Tarboe?" asked John Grier eagerly.  "Do
+you do these things in the Garden of Eden way, or can you run a bit
+crooked when it's worth while?"
+
+"If I'd ever seen it worth while, I'd say so.  I could run a bit crooked
+if I was fighting among the big ones, or if we were at war with--Belloc,
+eh!"  A cloud came into the eyes of Tarboe.  "If I was fighting Belloc,
+and he used a weapon to flay me from behind, I'd never turn my back on
+him!"
+
+A grim smile came into Tarboe's face.  His jaw set almost viciously, his
+eyes hardened.  "You people don't play your game very well, Mr. Grier.
+I've seen a lot that wants changing."
+
+"Why don't you change it, then?"
+
+Tarboe laughed.  "If I was boss like you, I'd change it, but I'm not, and
+I stick to my own job."
+
+The old man came close to him, and steadily explored his face and eyes.
+"I've never met anybody like you before.  You're the man can do things
+and won't do them."
+
+"I didn't say that.  I said what I meant--that good health is better than
+everything else in the world, and when you've got it, you should keep it,
+if you can.  I'm going to keep mine."
+
+"Well, keep it in Montreal," said John Grier.  "There's a lot doing there
+worth while.  Is fighting worth anything to one that's got aught in him?
+There's war for the big things.  I believe in war."  He waved a hand.
+"What's the difference between the kind of thing you've done to-day, and
+doing it with the Belloc gang--with the Folson gang--with the Longville
+gang--and all the rest?  It's the same thing.  I was like you when I was
+young.  I could do things you've done to-day while I laid the base of
+what I've got.  How old are you?"
+
+"I'm thirty--almost thirty-one."
+
+"You'll be just as well in Montreal to-morrow as you are here to-day, and
+you'd be twice as clever," said John Grier.  His eyes seemed to pierce
+those of the younger man.  "I like you," he continued, suddenly catching
+Tarboe's arm.  "You're all right, and you wouldn't run straight simply
+because it was the straight thing to do."
+
+Tarboe threw back his head and laughed and nodded.  The old man's eyes
+twinkled.  "By gracious, we're well met!  I never was in a bigger hole in
+my life.  One of my sons has left me.  I bought him out, and he's joined
+my enemy Belloc."
+
+"Yes, I know," remarked Tarboe.
+
+"My other son, he's no good.  He's as strong as a horse--but he's no
+good.  He paints, he sculps.  He doesn't care whether I give him money or
+not.  He earns his living as he wants to earn it.  When Fabian left me, I
+tried Carnac.  I offered to take him in permanently.  He tried it, but he
+wouldn't go on.  He got out.  He's twenty-six.  The papers are beginning
+to talk about him.  He doesn't care for that, except that it brings in
+cash for his statues and pictures.  What's the good of painting and
+statuary, if you can't do the big things?"
+
+"So you think the things you do are as big as the things that
+Shakespeare, or Tennyson, or Titian, or Van Dyck, or Watt, or Rodin do
+--or did?"
+
+"Bigger-much bigger," was the reply.
+
+The younger man smiled.  "Well, that's the way to look at it, I suppose.
+Think the thing you do is better than what anybody else does, and you're
+well started."
+
+"Come and do it too.  You're the only man I've cottoned to in years.
+Come with me, and I'll give you twelve thousand dollars a year; and I'll
+take you into my business.--I'll give you the best chance you ever had.
+You've found your health; come back and keep it.  Don't you long for the
+fight, for your finger at somebody's neck?  That's what I felt when I was
+your age, and I did it, and I'm doing it, but I can't do it as I used to.
+My veins are leaking somewhere."  A strange, sad, faded look came into
+his eyes.  "I don't want my business to be broken by Belloc," he added.
+"Come and help me save it."
+
+"By gosh, I will!" said the young man after a moment, with a sudden
+thirst in his throat and bite to his teeth.  "By gum, yes, I'll go with
+you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+"AT OUR PRICE?"
+
+West of the city of Montreal were the works and the offices of John
+Grier.  Here it was that a thing was done without which there might have
+been no real story to tell.  It was a night which marked the close of the
+financial year of the firm.
+
+Upon John Grier had come Carnac.  He had brought with him a small statue
+of a riverman with flannel shirt, scarf about the waist, thick defiant
+trousers and well-weaponed boots.  It was a real figure of the river,
+buoyant, daring, almost vicious.  The head was bare; there were plain
+gold rings in the ears; and the stark, half-malevolent eyes looked out,
+as though searching for a jam of logs or some peril of the river.  In the
+horny right hand was a defiant pike-pole, its handle thrust forward, its
+steel spike stabbing the ground.
+
+At first glance, Carnac saw that John Grier was getting worn and old.
+The eyes were not so flashing as they once were; the lips were curled in
+a half-cynical mood.  The old look of activity was fading; something
+vital had struck soul and body.  He had had a great year.  He had fought
+Belloc and his son Fabian successfully; he had laid new plans and
+strengthened his position.
+
+Tarboe coming into the business had made all the difference to him.
+Tarboe had imagination, skill and decision, he seldom lost his temper; he
+kept a strong hand upon himself.  His control of men was marvellous; his
+knowledge of finance was instinctive; his capacity for organization was
+rare, and he had health unbounded and serene.  It was hard to tell what
+were the principles controlling Tarboe--there was always an element of
+suspicion in his brown and brilliant eyes.  Yet he loved work.  The wind
+of energy seemed to blow through his careless hair.  His hands were like
+iron and steel; his lips were quick and friendly, or ruthless, as seemed
+needed.  To John Grier's eyes he was the epitome of civilization--the
+warrior without a soul.
+
+When Carnac came in now with the statue tucked under his arm, smiling and
+self-contained, it seemed as though something had been done by Fate to
+flaunt John Grier.
+
+With a nod, Carnac put the statue on the table in front of the old man,
+and said: "It's all right, isn't it?  I've lifted that out of the river-
+life.  That's one of the best men you ever had, and he's only one of a
+thousand.  He doesn't belong anywhere.  He's a rover, an adventurer, a
+wanton of the waters.  Look at him.  He's all right, isn't he?"  He asked
+this again.
+
+The timber-man waved the statue aside, and looked at the youth with
+critical eyes.  "I've just been making up the accounts for the year," he
+said.  "It's been the best year I've had in seven.  I've taken the starch
+out of Belloc and Fabian.  I've broken the back of their opposition--I've
+got it like a twig in iron teeth."
+
+"Yes, Tarboe's been some use, hasn't he?" was the suggestive response.
+
+John Grier's eyes hardened.  "You might have done it.  You had it in you.
+The staff of life--courage and daring--were yours, and you wouldn't take
+it on.  What's the result?  I've got a man who's worth two of Fabian and
+Belloc.  And you"--he held up a piece of paper--"see that," he broke off.
+"See that.  It's my record.  That's what I'm worth.  That's what you
+might have handled!"  He took a cigar from his pocket, cut off the blunt
+end, and continued: "You threw your chance aside."  He tapped the paper
+with the point of the cigar.  "That's what Tarboe has helped do.  What
+have you got to show?"  He pointed to the statue.  "I won't say it ain't
+good.  It's a live man from the river.  But what do I want with that,
+when I can have the original man himself!  My boy, the great game of life
+is to fight hard, and never to give in.  If you keep your eyes open,
+things'll happen that'll bring what you want."
+
+He stood up, striking a match to light his cigar.  It was dusk, and the
+light of the match gave a curious, fantastic glimmer to his powerful,
+weird, haggard face.  He was like some remnant of a great life, loose in
+a careless world.
+
+"I tell you," he said, the smoke leaking from his mouth like a drift of
+snow," the only thing worth doing is making the things that matter in the
+commerce and politics of the world."
+
+"I didn't know you were a politician," said Carnac.  "Of course I'm a
+politician," was the inflammable reply.  "What's commerce without
+politics?  It's politics that makes the commerce possible.  There's that
+fellow Barouche--Barode Barouche--he's got no money, but he's a Minister,
+and he can make you rich or poor by planning legislation at Ottawa
+that'll benefit or hamper you.  That's the kind of business that's worth
+doing--seeing into the future, fashioning laws that make good men happy
+and bad men afraid.  Don't I know!  I'm a master-man in my business;
+nothing defeats me.  To me, a forest of wild wood is the future palace of
+a Prime Minister.  A great river is a pathway to the palace, and all the
+thousands of men that work the river are the adventurers that bring the
+booty home--"
+
+"That bring 'the palace to Paris,' eh!"  interrupted Carnac, laughing.
+
+"Paris be damned--that bring the forest to Quebec.  How long did it take
+you to make that?" he added with a nod towards the statue.
+
+"Oh, I did it in a day--six hours, I think; and he stood like that for
+three hours out of the six.  He was great, but he'd no more sense of
+civilization than I have of Heaven."
+
+"You don't need to have a sense of Heaven, you need to have a sense of
+Hell.  That prevents you from spoiling your own show.  You're playing
+with life's vital things."
+
+"I wonder how much you've got out of it all, father," Carnac remarked
+with a smile.  He lit a cigarette.  "You do your job in style.  It's been
+a great career, yours.  You've made your big business out of nothing."
+
+"I had something to start with.  Your grandfather had a business worth
+not much, but it was a business, and the fundamental thing is to have
+machinery to work with when you start life.  I had that.  My father was
+narrow, contracted and a blunderer, but he made good in a small way."
+
+"And you in a big way," said Carnac, with admiration and criticism in his
+eyes.
+
+He realized that John Grier had summed him up fairly when he said he was
+playing with life's vital things.  Somehow, he saw the other had a grip
+upon essentials lacking in himself; he had his tooth in the orange, as it
+were, and was sucking the juice of good profit from his labours.  Yet he
+knew how much trickery and vital evasion and harsh aggression there were
+in his father's business life.
+
+As yet he had never seen Tarboe--he had been away in the country the
+whole year nearly--but he imagined a man of strength, abilities,
+penetration and deep power.  He knew that only a man with savage
+instincts could work successfully with John Grier; he knew that Grier
+was without mercy in his business, and that his best year's work had been
+marked by a mandatory power which only a malevolent policy could produce.
+Yet, somehow, he had a feeling that Tarboe had a steadying influence on
+John Grier.  The old man was not so uncontrolled as in bygone days.
+
+"I'd like to see Tarboe," Carnac said suddenly.  "He ain't the same as
+you," snapped John Grier.  "He's bigger, broader, and buskier."  A
+malicious smile crossed over his face.  "He's a bandit--that's what he
+is.  He's got a chest like a horse and lungs like the ocean.  When he's
+got a thing, he's got it like a nail in a branch of young elm.  He's a
+dandy, that fellow."  Suddenly passion came to his eyes.  "You might have
+done it, you've got the brains, and the sense, but you ain't got the
+ambition.  You keep feeling for a thousand things instead of keeping your
+grip on one.  The man that succeeds fastens hard on what he wants to do--
+the one big thing, and he does it, thinking of naught else."
+
+"Well, that's good preaching," remarked Carnac coolly.  "But it doesn't
+mean that a man should stick to one thing, if he finds out he's been
+wrong about it?  We all make mistakes.  Perhaps some day I'll wish I'd
+gone with you."
+
+Grimness came into the old man's face.  Something came into his eyes that
+was strange and revealing.
+
+"Well, I hope you will.  But you had your chance with me, and you threw
+it down like a piece of rotten leather."
+
+"I don't cost you anything," returned Carnac.  "I've paid my own way a
+long time--with mother's help."
+
+"And you're twenty-six years old, and what have you got?  Enough to give
+you bread from day to day-no more.  I was worth seventy thousand dollars
+when I was your age.  I'm worth enough to make a prince rich, and if I'd
+been treated right by those I brought into the world I'd be worth twice
+as much.  Fabian was good as far as he went, but he was a coward.  You"--
+a look of fury entered the dark eyes--"you were no coward, but you didn't
+care a damn.  You wanted to paddle about with muck of imagination--" he
+pointed to the statue on the table.
+
+"Why, your business has been great because of your imagination," was the
+retort.  "You saw things ahead with the artist's eye.  You planned with
+the artist's mind; and brought forth what's to your honour and credit--
+and the piling up of your bank balance.  The only thing that could have
+induced me to work in your business is the looking ahead and planning,
+seeing the one thing to be played off against the other, the fighting of
+strong men, the politics, all the forces which go to make or break your
+business.  Well, I didn't do it, and I'm not sorry.  I have a gift which,
+by training and development, will give me a place among the men who do
+things, if I have good luck--good luck!"
+
+He dwelt upon these last words with an intensity which dreaded something.
+There was retrospection in his eyes.  A cloud seemed to cross his face.
+
+A strong step crunching the path stopped the conversation, and presently
+there appeared the figure of Tarboe.  Certainly the new life had not
+changed Tarboe, had not altered his sturdy, strenuous nature.  His brown
+eyes under the rough thatch of his eyebrow took in the room with
+lightning glance, and he nodded respectfully, yet with great
+friendliness, at John Grier.  He seemed to have news, and he
+glanced with doubt at Carnac.
+
+John Grier understood.  "Go ahead.  What's happened?"
+
+"Nothing that can't wait till I'm introduced to your son," rejoined
+Tarboe.
+
+With a friendly look, free from all furtiveness, Carnac reached out a
+hand, small, graceful, firm.  As Tarboe grasped it in his own big paw, he
+was conscious of a strength in the grip which told him that the physical
+capacity of the "painter-fellow," as he afterwards called Carnac, had
+points worthy of respect.  On the instant, there was admiration on the
+part of each--admiration and dislike.  Carnac liked the new-comer for
+his healthy bearing, for the iron hardness of his head, and for the
+intelligence of his dark eyes.  He disliked him, however, for something
+that made him critical of his father, something covert and devilishly
+alert.  Both John Grier and Tarboe were like two old backwoodsmen, eager
+to reach their goal, and somewhat indifferent to the paths by which they
+travelled to it.
+
+Tarboe, on the other hand, admired the frank, pleasant face of the young
+man, which carried still the irresponsibility of youth, but which
+conveyed to the watchful eye a brave independence, a fervid, and perhaps
+futile, challenge to all the world.  Tarboe understood that this young
+man had a frankness dangerous to the business of life, yet which,
+properly applied, might bring great results.  He disliked Carnac for his
+uncalculating candour; but he realized that, behind all, was something
+disturbing to his life.
+
+"It's a woman," Tarboe said to himself, "it's a woman.  He's made a fool
+of himself."
+
+Tarboe was right.  He had done what no one else had done--he had pierced
+the cloud surrounding Carnac: it was a woman.
+
+"I hear you're pulling things off here," remarked Carnac civilly.  "He
+says"--pointing to John Grier--"that you're making the enemy squirm."
+
+Tarboe nodded, and a half-stealthy smile crept across his face.  "I don't
+think we've lost anything coming our way," he replied.  "We've had good
+luck--"
+
+"And our eyes were open," intervened John Grier.  "You push the brush and
+use the chisel, don't you?" asked Tarboe in spite of himself with slight
+scorn in his tone.
+
+"I push the chisel and use the brush," answered Carnac, smilingly
+correcting him.
+
+"That's a good thing.  Is it yours?" asked Tarboe, nodding and pointing
+to the statue of the riverman.  Carnac nodded.  "Yes, I did that one day.
+I'd like to do you, if you'd let me."
+
+The young giant waved a brawny hand and laughed.  He looked down at his
+knee-boots, with their muddied soles, and then at the statue again on the
+table.  "I don't mind you're doing me.  Turn about is fair play.
+
+"I've done you out of your job."  Then he added to the old man: "It's good
+news I've got.  I've made the contract with the French firm at our
+price."
+
+"At our price!" remarked the other with a grim smile.  "For the lot?"
+
+"Yes, for the lot, and I've made the contracts with the ships to carry
+it."
+
+"At our price?" again asked the old man.  Tarboe nodded.  "Just a little
+better."
+
+"I wouldn't have believed those two things could have been done in the
+time."  Grier rubbed his hands cheerfully.  "That's a good day's work.
+It's the best you've done since you've come."
+
+Carnac watched the scene with interest.  No envy moved him, his soul was
+free from malice.  Evidently Tarboe was a man of power.  Ruthless he
+might be, ruthless and unsparing, but a man of power.
+
+At that instant a clerk entered with a letter in his hand.  "Mrs. Grier
+said to give you this," he remarked to Carnac, handing it to him.
+
+Carnac took it and the clerk departed.  The letter had an American
+postmark, and the handwriting on the letter brought trouble to his eyes.
+He composed himself, however, and tore off the end of the envelope,
+taking out the letter.
+
+It was brief.  It contained only a few lines, but as Carnac read them the
+colour left his face.  "Good God!" he said to himself.  Then he put the
+paper in his pocket, and, with a forced smile and nod to his father and
+Tarboe, left the office.
+
+"That's queer.  The letter seemed to get him in the vitals," said John
+Grier with surprise.
+
+Tarboe nodded, and said to himself: "It's a woman all right."  He smiled
+to himself also.  He had wondered why Carnac and Junia Shale had not come
+to an understanding.  The letter which had turned Carnac pale was the
+interpretation.
+
+"Say, sit down, Tarboe," said John Grier.  "I want to talk with you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+JOHN GRIER MAKES ANOTHER OFFER
+
+"I've been keeping my eye on you, Tarboe," John Grier said presently, his
+right hand clutching unconsciously the statue which his boy had left with
+him.
+
+"I didn't suppose you'd forget me when I was making or breaking you."
+
+"You're a winner, Tarboe.  You've got sense and judgment, and you ain't
+afraid to get your own way by any route."
+
+He paused, and gripped the statue closely in his hands.
+
+Tarboe nodded.  In the backwoods he had been without ambition save to be
+master of what he was doing and of the men who were part of his world of
+responsibility.  Then John Grier had pulled him back into industry and he
+had since desired to ascend, to "make good."  Also, he had seen Junia
+often, and for her an aspiration had sprung up in him like a fire in a
+wild place.
+
+When he first saw her, she was standing in the doorway through which
+Carnac had just passed.  The brightness of her face, the wonder of her
+eyes, the glow of her cheek, had made his pulses throb as they had never
+throbbed before.  He had put the thought of her away from him, but it had
+come back constantly until he had found himself looking for her in the
+street, and on the hill that led to John Grier's house.
+
+Tarboe realized that the girl was drawn towards Carnac, and that Carnac
+was drawn towards the girl, but that some dark depths lay between.  The
+letter Carnac had just received seemed to him the plumbline of that
+abyss.  Carnac and the girl were suited to each other--that was clear;
+and the girl was enticing, provoking and bewildering--that was the
+modelling fact.  He had satisfaction that he had displaced Carnac in this
+great business, and there was growing in him a desire to take away the
+chances of the girl from Carnac also.  With his nature it was inevitable.
+Life to him was now a puzzle towards the solution of which he moved with
+conquering conviction.
+
+From John Grier's face now, he realized that something was to be said
+affecting his whole career.  It would, he was sure, alter his foot-steps
+in the future.  He had a profound respect for the little wiry man, with
+the firm body and shrivelled face.
+
+Tarboe watched the revealing expression of the old man's face and the
+motions of his body.  He noticed that the tight grip of the hand on the
+little statue of the riverman had made the fingers pale.  He realized how
+absorbed was the lumber-king, who had given him more confidence than he
+had given to anyone else in the world.  As near as he could come to
+anyone, he had come to John Grier.  There had been differences between
+them, but he, Tarboe, fought for his own idea, and, in nine cases out of
+ten, had conquered.  John Grier had even treated Tarboe's solutions as
+though they were his own.  He had a weird faith in the young giant.  He
+saw now Tarboe's eyes fixed on his fingers, and he released his grip.
+
+"That's the thing between him and me, Tarboe," he said, nodding towards
+the virile bronze.  "Think of my son doing that when he could do all
+this!"  He swept his arm in a great circle which included the horizon
+beyond the doors and the windows.  "It beats me, and because it beats me,
+and because he defies me, I've made up my mind what to do."
+
+"Don't do anything you'd be sorry for, boss.  He ain't a fool because
+he's not what you are."  He nodded towards the statue.  "You think that's
+pottering.  I think it's good stuff.  It will last, perhaps, when what
+you and I do is forgotten."
+
+There was something big and moving in Tarboe.  He was a contradiction.
+A lover of life, he was also reckless in how he got what he wanted.
+If it could not be got by the straight means, then it must be by the
+crooked, and that was where he and Grier lay down together, as it were.
+Yet he had some knowledge that was denied to John Grier.  The soul of the
+greater things was in him.
+
+"Give the boy a chance to work out his life in his own way," he said
+manfully.  "You gave him a chance to do it in your way, and you were
+turned down.  Have faith in him.  He'll probably come out all right in
+the end.
+
+"You mean he'll come my way?" asked the old man almost rabidly.  "You
+mean he'll do the things I want him to do here, as you've done?"
+
+"I guess so," answered Tarboe, but without conviction in his tone.  "I'm
+not sure whether it will be like that or not, but I know you've got a son
+as honest as the stars, and the honest man gets his own in the end."
+
+There was silence for some time, then the old man began walking up and
+down the room, softly, noiselessly.
+
+"You talk sense," he said.  "I care for that boy, but I care for my
+life's work more.  Day in, day out, night in, night out, I've slaved for
+it, prayed for it, believed in it, and tried to make my wife and my boys
+feel as I do about it, and none of them cares as I care.  Look at Fabian
+--over with the enemy, fighting his own father; look at Carnac, out in
+the open, taking his own way."  He paused.
+
+"And your wife?" asked Tarboe almost furtively, because it seemed to him
+that the old man was most unhappy in that particular field.
+
+"She's been a good wife, but she don't care as I do for success and
+money."
+
+"Perhaps you never taught her," remarked Tarboe with silky irony.
+
+"Taught her!  What was there to teach?  She saw me working; she knew the
+life I had to live; she was lifted up with me.  I was giving her
+everything in me to give."
+
+"You mean money and a big house and servants and comfort," said Tarboe
+sardonically.
+
+"Well, ain't that right?" snapped the other.
+
+"Yes, it's all right, but it don't always bring you what you want.  It's
+right, but it's wrong too.  Women want more than that, boss.  Women want
+to be loved--sky high."
+
+All at once Grier felt himself as far removed from Tarboe as he had ever
+been from Carnac, or his wife.  Why was it?  Suddenly Tarboe understood
+that between him and John Grier there must always be a flood.  He
+realized that there was in Grier some touch of the insane thing;
+something apart, remote and terrible.  He was convinced of it, when he
+saw Grier suddenly spring up, and pace the room again like a tortured
+animal.
+
+"You've got great influence with me," he said.  "I was just going to tell
+you something that'd give you pleasure, but what you've said about my boy
+coming back has made me change what I was going to do.  I don't need to
+say I like you.  We were born in the same nest almost.  We've got the
+same ideas."
+
+"Almost," intervened Tarboe.  "Not quite, but almost."
+
+"Well, this is what I've got to say.  You've got youth, courage, and good
+sense, and business ability, and what more does a man want in life, I ask
+you that?" Tarboe nodded, but made no reply.
+
+"Well, I don't feel as strong as I used to do.  I've been breaking up
+this last year, just when we've been knitting the cracks in the building.
+What was in my mind is this--to leave you when I die the whole of my
+business to keep it a success, and get in the way of Belloc, and pay my
+wife so much a year to live on."
+
+"That wouldn't be fair to your wife or your sons."
+
+"As for Carnac, if I left him the business it'd be dead in two years.
+Nothing could save it.  He'd spoil it, because he don't care for it.  I
+bought Fabian out.  As for my wife, she couldn't run it, and--"
+
+"You could sell it," interrupted Tarboe.
+
+"Sell it!  Sell it!" said Grier wildly.  "Sell it to whom?"
+
+"To Belloc," was the malicious reply.  The demon of anger seized the old
+man.
+
+"You say that to me--you--that I should sell to Belloc!  By hell, I'd
+rather burn every stick and board and tree I've got--sweep it out of
+existence, and die a beggar than sell it to Belloc!"  Froth gathered at
+the corners of his mouth, there was tumult in his eyes.  "Belloc!
+Knuckle down to him!  Sell out to him!"
+
+"Well, if you got a profit of twenty per cent. above what it's worth it
+might be well.  That'd be a triumph, not a defeat."
+
+"I see what you mean," said John Grier, the passion slowly going from his
+eyes.  "I see what you mean, but that ain't my way.  I want this business
+to live.  I want Grier's business to live long after John Grier has gone.
+That's why I was going to say to you that in my will I'm going to leave
+you this business, you to pay my wife every year twenty thousand
+dollars."  "And your son, Carnac?"
+
+"Not a sou-not a sou--not a sou--nothing--that's what I meant at first.
+But I've changed my mind now.  I'm going to leave you the business, if
+you'll make a bargain with me.  I want you to run it for three years, and
+take for yourself all the profits over the twenty thousand dollars a year
+that goes to my wife.  There's a lot of money in it, the way you'd work
+it."
+
+"I don't understand about the three years," said Tarboe, with rising
+colour.
+
+"No, because I haven't told you, but you'll take it in now.  I'm going to
+leave you the business as though you were going to have it for ever, but
+I'll make another will dated a week later, in which I leave it to Carnac.
+Something you said makes me think he might come right, and it will be
+playing fair to him to let him run himself alone, maybe with help from
+his mother, for three years.  That's long enough, and perhaps the thought
+of what he might have had will work its way with him.  If it don't--well,
+it won't; that's all; but I want you to have the business long enough to
+baulk Belloc and Fabian the deserter.  I want you for three years to
+fight this fight after I'm gone.  In that second secret will, I'll leave
+you two hundred thousand dollars.  Are you game for it?  Is it
+worthwhile?"
+
+The old man paused, his head bent forward, his eyes alert and searching,
+both hands gripping the table.  There was a long silence, in which the
+ticking of the clock upon the wall seemed unduly loud and in which the
+buzz of cross-cut saws came sounding through the evening air.  Yet Tarboe
+did not reply.
+
+"Have you nothing to say?" asked Grier at last.  "Won't you do it--eh?"
+
+"I'm studying the thing out," answered Tarboe quietly.  "I don't quite
+see about these two wills.  Why shouldn't the second will be found
+first?"
+
+"Because you and I will be the only ones that'll know of it.  That shows
+how much I trust you, Tarboe.  I'll put it away where nobody can get it
+except you or me."
+
+"But if anything should happen to me?"
+
+"Well, I'd leave a letter with my bank, not to be opened for three years,
+or unless you died, and it would say that the will existed, where it was,
+and what its terms were."
+
+"That sounds all right," but there was a cloud on Tarboe's face.
+
+"It's a great business," said Grier, seeing Tarboe's doubt.  "It's the
+biggest thing a man can do--and I'm breaking up."
+
+The old man had said the right thing--"It's a great business!"  It was
+the greatness of the thing that had absorbed Tarboe.  It was the bigness
+made him feel life could be worth living, if the huge machinery were
+always in his fingers.  Yet he had never expected it, and life was a
+problem.  Who could tell?  Perhaps--perhaps, the business would always be
+his in spite of the second will!  Perhaps, he would have his chance to
+make good.  He got to his feet; he held out his hand.
+
+"I'll do it."
+
+"Ain't it worth any thanks?"
+
+"Not between us," declared Tarboe.
+
+"When are you going to do it?"
+
+"To-night--now."  He drew out some paper and sat down with a pen in his
+hand.
+
+"Now," John Grier repeated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE PUZZLE
+
+On his way home, with Luzanne's disturbing letter in his pocket, Carnac
+met Junia.  She was supremely Anglo-Saxon; fresh, fervid and buoyant with
+an actual buoyancy of the early spring.  She had tact and ability,
+otherwise she could never have preserved peace between the contending
+factions, Belloc and Fabian, old John Grier, the mother and Carnac.  She
+was as though she sought for nothing, wished nothing but the life in
+which she lived.  Yet her wonderful pliability, her joyful boyishness,
+had behind all a delicate anxiety which only showed in flashes now and
+then, fully understood by no one except Carnac's mother and old Denzil.
+These two having suffered strangely in life had realized that the girl
+was always waiting for a curtain to rise which did not rise, for a voice
+to speak which gave no sound.
+
+Yet since Carnac's coming back there had appeared a slight change in her,
+a bountiful, eager alertness, a sense of wonder and experiment, adding
+new interest to her personality.  Carnac was conscious of this increased
+vitality, was impressed and even provoked by it.  Somehow he felt--for he
+had the telepathic mind--that the girl admired and liked Tarboe.  He did
+not stop to question how or why she should like two people so different
+as Tarboe and himself.
+
+The faint colour of the crimsoning maples was now in her cheek; the light
+of the autumn evening was in her eyes; the soft vitality of September was
+in her motions.  She was attractively alive.  Her hair waved back from
+her forehead with natural grace; her small feet, with perfect ankles,
+made her foothold secure and sedately joyous.  Her brown hand--yet not so
+brown after all--held her hat lightly, and was, somehow, like a signal
+out of a world in which his hopes were lost for the present.
+
+She was dearer to him than all the rest of the world; and he had in his
+hand what kept them apart--a sentence of death, unless he escaped from
+the wanton calling him to fulfil duties into which he had been tricked.
+Luzanne Larue had a terrible hold over him.  He gripped the letter in his
+pocket as a Hopi Indian does the body of a poisonous snake.  The rosy
+sunset gave the girl's face a reflected spiritual glamour; it made her,
+suddenly, a bewildering figure.  Somehow, she seemed a great distance
+from him--as one detached and unfamiliar.
+
+He suddenly felt she knew more than it was possible she should know.
+As she flashed an inquiry into his eyes, it was as though she said: "Why
+don't you tell me everything, and I will help you?"  Or, was it: "Why
+don't you tell me everything and end it all?"  He longed to press her to
+his breast, as he had once done in the woods when Denzil had been
+injured, but that was not possible.  The thought of that far-off day made
+him say to her, rather futilely:
+
+"How is Denzil?  How is Denzil?"
+
+There was swift surprise in her face.  She seemed dumbfounded, and then
+she said:
+
+"Denzil!  He's all right, but he does not like your Mr. Tarboe."
+
+"My Mr. Tarboe!  Where do I come in?"
+
+"Well, he's got what you ought to have had," was the reply.  "What you
+would have had, weren't you a foolish fellow."
+
+"I still don't understand how he is my Mr. Tarboe."
+
+"Well, he wouldn't have been in your father's life if it weren't for you;
+if you had done what your father wished you to do, had--"
+
+"Had sold myself for gold--my freedom, my health, everything to help my
+father's business!  I don't see why he should expect that what he's doing
+some one else should do--"
+
+"That Belloc would do, that Belloc and Fabian would do," said the girl.
+
+"Yes, that's it--what they two would do.  There's no genius in it,
+though my father comes as near being a genius as any man alive.  But
+there's a screw loose somewhere.  .  .  .  It wasn't good enough for me.
+It didn't give me a chance--in things that are of the mind, the spirit--
+my particular gifts, whatever they are.  They would have chafed against
+that life."
+
+"In other words, you're a genius, which your father isn't," the girl said
+almost sarcastically.
+
+A disturbed look came into Carnac's eyes.  "I'd have liked my father to
+be a genius.  Then we'd have hit it off together.  I don't ever feel the
+things he does are the things I want to do; or the things he says are
+those I'd like to say.  He's a strange man.  He lives alone.  He never
+was really near Fabian or me.  We were his sons, but though Fabian is a
+little bit like him in appearance, I'm not, and never was.  I always feel
+that--"  He paused, and she took up the tale:
+
+"That he wasn't the father you'd have made for yourself, eh!"
+
+"I suppose that's it.  Conceit, ain't it?  Perhaps the facts are, I'm one
+of the most useless people that ever wore a coat.  Perhaps the things I
+do aren't going to live beyond me."
+
+"It seems as though your father's business is going to live after him,
+doesn't it?" the girl asked mockingly.  "Where are you going now?" she
+added.
+
+"Well, I'm going to take you home," he said, as he turned and walked by
+her side down the hill.
+
+"Denzil will be glad to see you.  He almost thinks I'm a curse."
+
+Carnac smiled.  "All genius is at once a blessing or a curse.  And what
+does Denzil think of me?"
+
+"Oh--a blessing and a curse!" she said whimsically.
+
+"I don't honestly think I'm a blessing to anybody in this world.
+There's no one belonging to me who believes in me."
+
+"There's Denzil," she said.  "He believes in you."
+
+"He doesn't belong to me; he isn't my family."
+
+"Who are your family?  Is it only those who are bone of your bone and
+flesh of your flesh?  Your family is much wider, because you're a genius.
+It's worldwide--of all kinds.  Denzil belongs to you, because you helped
+to save him years ago; the Catholic Archbishop belongs to you, because
+he's got brains and a love of literature and art; Barode Barouche belongs
+to you, because he's almost a genius too."
+
+"Barouche is a politician," said Carnac with slight derision.
+
+"That's no reason why he shouldn't be a genius."
+
+"He's a Frenchman."
+
+"Haven't Frenchmen genius?" asked the girl.
+
+Carnac laughed.  "Why, of course.  Barode Barouche--yes, he's a great
+one: he can think, he can write, and he can talk; and the talking's the
+best that he does--though I've not heard him speak, but I've read his
+speeches."
+
+"Doesn't he make good laws at Ottawa?"
+
+"He makes laws at Ottawa--whether they're good or not is another
+question.  I shouldn't be a follower of his, if I had my chance though."
+
+"That's because you're not French."
+
+"Oh yes, I'm as French as can be!  I felt at home with the French when I
+was in France.  I was all Gallic.  When I'm here I'm more Gallic than
+Saxon.
+
+"I don't understand it.  Here am I, with all my blood for generations
+Saxon, and yet I feel French.  If I'd been born in the old country, it
+would have been in Limerick or Tralee.  I'd have been Celtic there."
+
+"Yet Barode Barouche is a great man.  He gets drunk sometimes, but he's
+great.  He gets hold of men like Denzil."
+
+"Denzil has queer tastes."
+
+"Yes--he worships you."
+
+"That's not queer, it's abnormal," said Carnac with gusto.
+
+"Then I'm abnormal," she said with a mocking laugh, and swung her hat on
+her fingers like a wheel.  Something stormy and strange swam in Carnac's
+eyes.  All his trouble rushed back on him; the hand in his pocket crushed
+the venomous letter he had received, but he said:
+
+"No, you don't worship me!"
+
+"Who was it said all true intelligence is the slave of genius?" she
+questioned, a little paler than usual, her eye on the last gleam of the
+sun.
+
+"I don't know who said it, but if that's why you worship me, I know how
+hollow it all is," he declared sullenly, for she was pouring carbolic
+acid into a sore.
+
+He wanted to drag the letter from his pocket and hand it her to read; to
+tell her the whole distressful story: but he dared not.  He longed for
+her, and yet he dared not tell her so.  He half drew the letter from his
+pocket, but thrust it back again.  Tell this innocent girl the whole ugly
+story?  It could not be done.  There was but one thing to do--to go away,
+to put this world of French Canada behind him, and leave her free to
+follow her fancy, or some one else's fancy.
+
+Or some one else's fancy?  There was Tarboe.  Tarboe had taken from him
+the place in the business which should be his; he had displaced him in
+his father's affections .  .  .  and now Junia!
+
+He held out a hand to the girl.  "I must go and see my mother."
+
+His eyes abashed her.  She realized there was trouble in the face of the
+man who all her life had been strangely near and dear to her.  With
+impulsiveness, she said "You're in trouble, Carnac.  Let me help you."
+
+For one swift instant he almost yielded.  Then he gripped her hand and
+said: "No-no-no.  It can't be done--not yet."
+
+"Then let Denzil help you.  Here he is," she remarked, and she glanced
+affectionately at the greyish, tousled head of the habitant who was
+working in the garden of her father's house.
+
+Carnac was master of himself again.  "Not a bad idea," he said.  "Denzil!
+Denzil!" he called.
+
+The little man looked up.  An instant later the figure of the girl
+fluttered through the doorway of her home, and Carnac stopped beside
+Denzil in the garden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+DENZIL TELLS HIS STORY
+
+"You keep going, Denzil," remarked Carnac as he lighted his pipe and came
+close to the old servant.
+
+The face of the toiler lighted, the eyes gazed kindly, at Carnac.  "What
+else is there to do?  We must go on.  There's no standing still in the
+world.  We must go on--surelee."
+
+"Even when it's hard going, eh?" asked Carnac, not to get an answer so
+much as to express his own feelings.  "Yes, that's right, m'sieu'; that's
+how it is.  We can't stand still even when it's hard going--but, no,
+bagosh!"
+
+He realized that around Carnac there was a shadow which took its toll of
+light and life.  He had the sound instinct of primitive man.  Strangely
+enough in his own eyes was the look in those of Carnac, a past, hovering
+on the brink of revelation.  His appearance was that of one who had
+suffered; his knotted hands, dark with warm blood, had in them a story of
+life's sorrows; his broad shoulders were stooped with the inertia of long
+regret; his feet clung to the ground as though there was a great weight
+above them.  But a smile shimmered at his mouth, giving to his careworn
+face something almost beautiful, lifting the darkness from his powerful,
+shaggy forehead.  Many men knew Denzil by sight, few knew him in actual
+being.  There was a legend that once he was about to be married, but the
+girl had suddenly gone mad and drowned herself in the river.  No one
+thought it strange that a month later the eldest son of the Tarboe family
+had been found dead in the woods with a gun in his hand and a bullet
+through his heart.  No one had ever linked the death of Denzil's loved
+one with that of Almeric Tarboe.
+
+It was unusual for a Frenchman to give up his life to an English family,
+but that is what he had done, and of late he had watched Junia with new
+eager solicitude.  The day she first saw Tarboe had marked an exciting
+phase in her life.
+
+Denzil had studied her, and he knew vaguely that a fresh interest,
+disturbing, electrifying, had entered into her.  Because it was Tarboe,
+the fifteen years younger brother of that Almeric Tarboe who had died a
+month after his own girl had left this world, his soul was fighting--
+fighting.
+
+As the smoke of Carnac's pipe came curling into the air, Denzil put on
+his coat, and laid the hoe and rake on his shoulder.
+
+"Yes, even when it's hard going we still have to march on--name of God,
+yes!" he repeated, and he looked at Carnac quizzically.
+
+"Where are you going?  Don't you want to talk to me?"
+
+"I'm going home, m'sieu'.  If you'll come with me I'll give you a drink
+of hard cider, the best was ever made."
+
+"I'll come.  Denzil, I've never been in your little house.  That's
+strange, when I've known you so many years."
+
+"It's not too late to mend, m'sieu'.  There ain't much in it, but it's
+all I need."
+
+Carnac stepped with Denzil towards the little house, just in front of
+three pine-trees on the hill, and behind Junia's home.
+
+"I always lock my door--always," said Denzil as he turned a key and
+opened the door.
+
+They entered into the cool shade of a living-room.  There was little
+furniture, yet against the wall was a kind of bunk, comfortable and
+roomy, on which was stretched the skin of a brown bear.  On the wall
+above it was a crucifix, and on the opposite wall was the photograph of a
+girl, good-looking, refined, with large, imaginative eyes, and a face
+that might have been a fortune.
+
+Carnac gazed at it for a moment, absorbed.  "That was your girl, Denzil,
+wasn't it?" he asked.
+
+Denzil nodded.  "The best the world ever had, m'sieu'," he replied, "the
+very best, but she went queer and drowned herself--ah, but yes!"
+
+"She just went queer, eh!" Carnac said, looking Denzil straight in the
+eyes.  "Was there insane blood in her family?"
+
+"She wasn't insane," answered Denzil firmly.  "She'd been bad used--
+terrible."
+
+"That didn't come out at the inquest, did it?"
+
+"Not likely.  She wrote it me.  I'm telling you what I've never told
+anyone."  He shut the door, as though to make a confessional.  "She wrote
+it me, and I wasn't telling anyone-but no.  She'd been away down at
+Quebec City, and there a man got hold of her.  Almeric Tarboe it was--the
+older brother of Luke Tarboe at John Grier's."  Suddenly the face of the
+little man went mad with emotion.  "I--I--" he paused.
+
+Carnac held up his hand.  "No-no-no, don't tell me.  Tarboe--
+I understand, the Unwritten Law.  You haven't told me, but I understand.
+I remember: he was found in the woods with his gun in his hand-dead.
+I read it all by accident long ago; and that was the story, eh!"
+
+"Yes.  She was young, full of imagination.  She loved me, but he was
+clever, and he was high up, and she was low down.  He talked her blind,
+and then in the woods it was, in the woods where he died, that he--"
+
+Suddenly the little man wrung his fingers like one robbed of reason.
+"He was a strongman," he went on, "and she was a girl, weak, but not
+wanton .  .  .  and so she died, telling me, loving me--so she died, and
+so he died, too, in the woods with his gun in his hand.  Yes, 'twas done
+with his own gun--by accident--by accident!  He stumbled, and the gun
+went off.  That was the story at the inquest.  No one knew I was there.
+I was never seen with him and I've never been sorry.  He got what he
+deserved--sacre, yes!"
+
+There was something overwhelming in the face of the little resolute,
+powerful man.  His eyes were aflame.  He was telling for the first time
+the story of his lifelong agony and shame.
+
+"It had to be done.  She was young, so sweet, so good, aye, she was good-
+in her soul she was good, ah, surelee.  That's why she died in the pond.
+No one knew.  The inquest did not bring out anything, but that's why he
+died; and ever since I've been mourning; life has no rest for me.
+I'm not sorry for what I did.  I've told it you because you saved me
+years ago when I fell down the bank.  You were only fourteen then,
+but I've never forgotten.  And she, that sweet young lady, she--she was
+there too; and now when I look at this Tarboe, the brother of that man,
+and see her and know what I know--sacre!"  He waved a hand.  "No-no-no,
+don't think there's anything except what's in the soul.  That man has
+touched ma'm'selle--I don't know why, but he has touched her heart.
+Perhaps by his great bulk, his cleverness, his brains, his way of doing
+things.  In one sense she's his slave, because she doesn't want to think
+of him, and she does.  She wants to think of you--and she does--ah,
+bagosh, yes!"
+
+"Yes, I understand," remarked Carnac morosely.  "I understand."
+
+"Then why do you let her be under Tarboe's influence?  Why don't--"
+
+Carnac thrust out a hand that said silence.  "Denzil, I'll never forget
+what you've told me about yourself.  Some day you'll have to tell it to
+the priest, and then--"
+
+"I'll never tell it till I'm on my death-bed.  Then I'll tell it, sacre
+bapteme, yes!"
+
+"You're a bad Catholic, Denzil," remarked Carnae with emotion, but a
+smile upon his face.
+
+"I may be a bad Catholic, but the man deserved to die, and he died.
+What's the difference, so far's the world's concerned, whether he died by
+accident, or died--as he died.  It's me that feels the fury of the
+damned, and want my girl back every hour: and she can't come.  But some
+day I'll go to M'sieu' Luke Tarboe, and tell him the truth, as I've told
+it you--bagosh, yes!"
+
+"I think he'd try and kill you, if you did.  That's the kind of man he
+is."
+
+"You think if he knew the truth he'd try and kill me--he!"
+
+Carnac paused.  He did not like to say everything in his mind.  "Do you
+think he'd say much and do little?"
+
+"I dunno, I dunno, but I'll tell him the truth and take my chance."
+Suddenly he swung round and stretched out appealing hands.  "Haven't you
+got any sense, m'sieu'?  Don't you see what you should do?  Ma'm'selle
+Junia cares for you.  I know it--I've seen it in her eyes often--often."
+
+With sudden vehemence Carnac caught the wrists of the other.  "It can't
+be, Denzil.  I can't tell you why yet.  I'm going away.  If Tarboe wants
+her--good--good; I must give her a chance."
+
+Denzil shrank.  "There's something wrong, m'sieu'," he said.  Then his
+eyes fastened on Carnac's.  Suddenly, with a strange, shining light in
+them, he added "It will all come right for you and her.  I'll live for
+that.  If you go away, I'll take good care of her."
+
+"Even if--" Carnac paused.
+
+"Yes, even if he makes love to her.  He'll want to marry her, surelee."
+
+"Well, that's not strange," remarked Carnac.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CARNAC'S TALK WITH HIS MOTHER
+
+Carnac went slowly towards his father's house on the hill.  Fixed, as his
+mind was, upon all that had just happened, his eye took fondly from the
+gathering dusk pictures which the artist's mind cherishes--the long
+roadway, with the maples and pines, the stump fences; behind which lay
+the garnered fields, where the plough had made ready the way for the Fall
+wheat; the robins twittering in the scattered trees; the cooing of the
+wood-pigeon; over all, the sky in its perfect purpling blue, and far down
+the horizon the evening-star slowly climbing.  He noted the lizards
+slipping through the stones; he saw where the wheel of a wagon had
+crushed some wild flower-growth; he heard the far call of a milkmaid to
+the cattle; he caught the sweet breath of decaying verdure, and through
+all, the fresh, biting air of the new-land autumn, pleasantly stinging
+his face.
+
+Something kept saying to his mind: "It's all good.  It's life and light,
+and all good."  But his nerves were being tried; his whole nature was
+stirred.
+
+He took the letter from his pocket again, and read it in the fading
+light.  It was native, naive, brutal, and unconsciously clever--and the
+girl who had written it was beautiful.  It had only a few lines.  It
+asked him why he had deserted her, his wife.  It said that he would find
+American law protected the deluded stranger.  It asked if he had so soon
+forgotten the kisses he had given her, and did he not realize they were
+married?  He felt that, with her, beneath all, there was more than
+malice; there was a passion which would run risks to secure its end.
+
+A few moments later he was in the room where his mother, with her strong,
+fine, lonely face, sat sewing by the window.  The door opened squarely on
+her, and he saw how refined and sad, yet self-contained, was the woman
+who had given him birth.  The look in her eyes warmly welcomed him.  Her
+own sorrows made her sensitive to those of others, and as Carnac entered
+she saw something was vexing him.
+
+"Dear lad!" she said.
+
+He was beside her now, and he kissed her cheek.  "Best of all the world,"
+he said; and he did not see that she shrank a little.
+
+"Are you in trouble?" she asked, and her hand touched his shoulder.
+
+The wrong she had done him long ago vexed her.  It was not possible this
+boy could fit in with a life where, in one sense, he did not belong.  It
+was not part of her sorrow that he had given himself to painting and
+sculpture.  In her soul she believed this might be best for him in the
+end.  She had a surreptitious, an almost anguished, joy in the thought
+that he and John Grier could not hit it off.  It seemed natural that
+both men, ignorant of their own tragedy, believing themselves to be
+father and son, should feel for each other the torture of distance,
+a misunderstanding, which only she and one other human being understood.
+
+John Grier was not the boy's father.  Carnac was the son of Barode
+Barouche.
+
+After a moment he said: "Mother, I know why I've come to you.  It's
+because I feel when I'm in trouble, I get helped by being with you."
+
+"How do I help, my boy?" she asked with a sad smile, for he had said
+the thing dearest to her heart.
+
+"When I'm with you, I seem to get a hold on myself.  I've always had a
+strange feeling about you.  I felt when I was a child that you're two
+people; one that lives on some distant, lonely prairie, silent, shadowy
+and terribly loving; and the other, a vocal person, affectionate, alert,
+good and generous."
+
+He paused, but she only shook her head.  After a moment he continued:
+"I know you aren't happy, mother, but maybe you once were--at the start."
+
+She got to her feet, and drew herself up.
+
+"I'm happy in your love, but all the rest--is all the rest.  It isn't
+your father's fault wholly.  He was busy; he forgot me.  Dear, dear boy,
+never give up your soul to things only, keep it for people."
+
+She was naturally straight and composed; yet as she stood there, she had
+a certain lonely splendour like some soft metal burning.  Among her
+fellow-citizens she had place and position, but she took no lead; she was
+always an isolated attachment of local enterprises.  It was in her own
+house where her skill and adaptability had success.  She had brought into
+her soul misery and martyrdom, and all martyrs are lonely and apart.
+
+Sharp visions of what she was really flashed through Carnac's mind, and
+he said:
+
+"Mother, there must be something wrong with you and me.  You were
+naturally a great woman, and sometimes I have a feeling I might be a
+great man, but I don't get started for it.  I suppose, you once had an
+idea you'd play a big part in the world?"
+
+"Girls have dreams," she answered with moist eyes, "and at times I
+thought great things might come to me; but I married and got lost."
+
+"You got lost?" asked Carnac anxiously, for there was a curious note in
+her voice.
+
+She tried to change the effect of her words.
+
+"Yes, I lost myself in somebody else's ambitions I lost myself in the
+storm."
+
+Carnac laughed.  "Father was always a blizzard, wasn't he?  Now here, now
+there, he rushed about making money, humping up his business, and yet why
+shouldn't you have ranged beside him.  I don't understand."
+
+"No, that's the bane of life," she replied.  "We don't understand each
+other.  I can't understand why you don't marry Junia.  You love her.
+You don't understand why I couldn't play as big a part as your father--
+I couldn't.  He was always odd--masterful and odd, and I never could do
+just as he liked."
+
+There was yearning sadness in her eyes.  "Dear Carnac, John Grier is a
+whirlwind, but he's also a still pool in which currents are secretly
+twisting, turning.  His imagination, his power is enormous; but he's
+Oriental, a barbarian."
+
+"You mean he might have had twenty wives?"
+
+"He might have had twenty, and he'd have been the same to all of them,
+because they play no part, except to make his home a place where his body
+can live.  That's the kind of thing, when a wife finds it out, that
+either kills her slowly, or drives her mad."
+
+"It didn't kill you, mother," remarked Carnac with a little laugh.
+
+"No, it didn't kill me."
+
+"And it didn't drive you mad," he continued.
+
+She looked at him with burning intensity.  "Oh, yes, it did--but I became
+sane again."  She gazed out of the window, down the hillside.  "Your
+father will soon be home.  Is there anything you want to say before
+that?"
+
+Carnac wanted to tell his tragic story, but it was difficult.  He caught
+his mother's hand.
+
+"What's the matter, Carnac?  You are in trouble.  I can see it in your
+eyes--I feel it.  Is it money?" she asked.  She knew it was not, yet she
+could not help but ask.  He shook his head in negation.
+
+"Is it business?"
+
+She knew his answer, yet she must make these steps before she said to
+him: "Is it a woman?"
+
+He nodded now.  She caught his eyes and held them with her own.  All the
+silence and sorrow, all the remorse and regret of the past twenty-six
+years gathered in her face.
+
+"Yes and no," he answered with emotion.  "You've quarrelled with Junia?"
+
+"No," he replied.
+
+"Why don't you marry her?" she urged.  "We all would like it, even your
+father."
+
+"I can't."
+
+"Why?"  She leant forward with a slight burning of the cheek.  "Why,
+Carnac?"
+
+He had determined to keep his own secret, to hide the thing which had
+vexed his life, but a sudden feeling overcame his purpose.  With impulse
+he drew out the letter he had received in John Grier's office and handed
+it to her.
+
+"Read that, and then I'll tell you all about it--all I can."
+
+With whitening face, she took the letter and read its few lines.  It was
+written in French, with savage little flourishes and twists, and the name
+signed at the end was "Luzanne."  At last she handed it back, her fingers
+trembling.
+
+"Who is Luzanne, and what does it mean?"  What she had read was
+startling.
+
+He slowly seated himself beside her.  "I will tell you."
+
+When Carnac had ended his painful story, she said to him: "It's terrible
+--oh, terrible.  But there was divorce."
+
+"Yes, but they told me I couldn't get a divorce.  Yet I wish now I'd
+tried for it.  I've never heard a word from the girl till I got that
+letter.  It isn't strange she hasn't moved in the thing till now.  It was
+I that should have acted; and she knew that.  She means business, that's
+clear, and it'll be hard to prove I didn't marry her with eyes wide open.
+It gets between me and my work and my plans for the future; between--"
+
+"Between you and Junia," she said mournfully.  "Don't you think you ought
+to get a divorce for Junia's sake, if nothing else?"
+
+"Yes, of course.  But I'm not sure I could get a divorce--evidence is so
+strong against me, and it was a year ago!  If I can see Luzanne again
+perhaps I can get her to tear up the marriage-lines--that's what I want.
+She isn't all bad.  I must go again to New York; and Junia can wait.  I'm
+not much, I know--not worth waiting for, maybe, but I'm in earnest where
+Junia's concerned.  I could make a little home for her at once, and a
+better one as time went on, if she would marry me."
+
+After a moment of silence, Carnac added: "I'm going to New York.  Don't
+you think I ought to go?"
+
+The gaunt, handsome face of the woman darkened, and then she answered:
+"Yes."
+
+There was silence again for a moment, deep and painful, and then Carnac
+spoke.
+
+"Mother, I don't think father is well.  I see a great change in him.  He
+hasn't long to travel, and some day you'll have everything.  He might
+make you run the business, with Tarboe as manager."
+
+She shuddered slightly.  "With Tarboe--I never thought of that--with
+Tarboe!  .  .  .  Are you going to wait for--your father?  He'll be here
+presently."
+
+"No, I'm off.  I'll go down the garden, through the bushes," he said....
+"Mother, I've got nearer you to-night than in all the rest of my life."
+
+She kissed him fondly.  "You're going away, but I hope you'll come back
+in time."
+
+He knew she meant Junia.
+
+"Yes, I hope I'll come back in time."
+
+A moment later he was gone, out of the sidedoor, through the bushes, and
+down the hill, running like a boy.  He had for the first time talked to
+his mother about the life of their home; the facts she told him stripped
+away the curtain that hid the secret things of life from his eyes.
+
+John Grier almost burst upon his wife.  He opened and shut the door
+noisily; he stamped into the dusky room.
+
+"Isn't it time for a light?" he said with a quizzical nod towards her.
+
+The short visit of Carnac had straightened her back.  "I like the
+twilight.  I don't light up until it's dark, but if you wish--"
+
+"You like the twilight; you don't light up until it's dark, but if I
+wish--ah, that's it!  Have your own way....  I'm the breadwinner; I'm the
+breadwinner; I'm the fighter; I'm the man that makes the machine go; but
+I don't like the twilight, and I don't like to wait until it's dark
+before I light up.  So there it is!"
+
+She said nothing at once, but struck a match, and lit the gas.
+
+"It's easy to give you what you want," she answered after a little.
+"I'm used to it now."
+
+There was something animal-like in the thrust forward of his neck, in the
+anger that mounted to his eyes.  When she had drawn down the blinds, he
+said to her: "Who's been here?"
+
+For an instant she hesitated.  Then she said: "Carnac's been here, but
+that has naught to do with what I said.  I've lived with you for over
+thirty years, and I haven't spoken my mind often, but I'm speaking it
+now."
+
+"Never too late to mend, eh!" he gruffly interposed.  "So Carnac's been
+here!  Putting up his independent clack, eh?  He leaves his old father to
+struggle as best he may, and doesn't care a damn.  That's your son
+Carnac."
+
+How she longed to say to him, "That's not your son Carnac!" but she
+could not.  A greyness crossed over her face.
+
+"Is Carnac staying here?"
+
+She shook her head in negation.
+
+"Well, now I'll tell you about Carnac," he said viciously.  "I'm shutting
+him out of the business of my life.  You understand?"
+
+"You mean--" She paused.
+
+"He's taken his course, let him stick to it.  I'm taking my course, and
+I'll stick to it."
+
+She came close and reached out a faltering hand.  "John, don't do what
+you'll be sorry for."
+
+"I never have."
+
+"When Fabian was born, you remember what you said?  You said: 'Life's
+worth living now.'"
+
+"Yes, but what did I say when Carnac was born?"
+
+"I didn't hear, John," she answered, her face turning white.
+
+"Well, I said naught."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+CARNAC SAYS GOOD-BYE
+
+Fabian Grier's house was in a fashionable quarter of a fashionable
+street, the smallest of all built there; but it was happily placed,
+rather apart from others, at the very end of the distinguished promenade.
+Behind it, a little way up the hill, was a Roman Catholic chapel.
+
+The surroundings of the house were rural for a city habitation.  Behind
+it were commendable trees, from one of which a swing was hung.  In a
+corner, which seemed to catch the sun, was a bird-cage on a pole, sought
+by pigeons and doves.  In another corner was a target for the bow and
+arrow-evidence of the vigorous life of the owners of the house.
+
+On the morning after Carnac told his mother he was going away, the doors
+of the house were all open.  Midway between breakfast and lunch, the
+voices of children sang through the dining-room bright with the morning
+sun.  The children were going to the top of the mountain-the two
+youngsters who made the life of Fabian and his wife so busy.  Fabian was
+a man of little speech.  He was slim and dark and quiet, with a black
+moustache and smoothly brushed hair, with a body lithe and composed, yet
+with hands broad, strong, stubborn.
+
+As Junia stood by the dining-room table and looked at the alert,
+expectant children, she wished she also was going now to the mountain-
+top.  But that could not be--not yet.  Carnac had sent a note saying he
+wished to see her, and she had replied through Denzil that her morning
+would be spent with her sister.  "What is it?" she remarked to herself.
+"What is it?  There's nothing wrong.  Yet I feel everything upside down."
+
+Her face turned slowly towards the wide mountain; it caught the light
+upon the steeple of the Catholic chapel.  She shuddered slightly, and an
+expression came into her shadowed eyes not belonging to her personality,
+which was always buoyant.
+
+As she stood absorbed, her mind in a maze of perplexity, a sigh broke
+from her lips.  She suddenly had a conviction about Carnac; she felt his
+coming might bring a crisis; that what he might say must influence her
+whole life.  Carnac--she threw back her head.  Suddenly a sweet,
+appealing, intoxicating look crossed her face.  Carnac!  Yes,
+there was a man, a man of men.
+
+Tarboe got his effects by the impetuous rush of a personality; Carnac by
+something that haunted, that made him more popular absent than present.
+Carnac compelled thought.  When he was away she wanted him; when he was
+near she liked to quarrel with him.  When they were together, one moment
+she wanted to take his hands in her hands, and in the next she wanted to
+push him over some great cliff--he was so maddening.  He provoked the
+devil in her; yet he made her sing the song of Eden.  What was it?
+
+As she asked the question she heard a firm step on the path.  It was
+Carnac.  She turned and stood waiting, leaning against the table,
+watching the door through which he presently came.  He was dressed in
+grey.  His coat was buttoned.  He carried a soft grey hat, and somehow
+his face gave her a feeling that he had come to say good-bye.
+It startled her; and yet, though she was tempted to grip her breast,
+she did not.  Presently she spoke.
+
+"I think you're a very idle man.  Why aren't you at work?"
+
+"I am at work," Carnac said cheerfully.
+
+"Work is not all paint and canvas of course.  There has to be the
+thinking beforehand.  Well, of what are you thinking now?"
+
+"Of the evening train to New York."
+
+His face was turned away from her at the instant, because he did not wish
+to see the effect of his words.  He would have seen that apprehension
+came to her eyes.  Her mouth opened in quick amazement.  It was all too
+startling.  He was going--for how long?
+
+"Why are you going?" she asked, when she had recovered her poise.
+
+"Well, you see I haven't quite learned my painting yet, and I must study
+in great Art centres where one isn't turned down by one's own judgment."
+
+"Ananias!" she said at last.  "Ananias!"
+
+"Why do you say I'm a liar?" he asked, flushing a little, though there
+was intense inquiry in his eyes.  "Because I think it.  It isn't your
+work only that's taking you away."  Suddenly she laughed.  "What a fool
+you are, Carnac!  You're not a good actor.  You're not going away for
+work's sake only."
+
+"Not for work's sake only--that's true."
+
+"Then why do you go?"
+
+"I'm in a mess, Junia.  I've made some mistakes in my life, and I'm going
+to try and put one of them right."
+
+"Is anybody trying to do you harm?" she asked gently.
+
+"Yes, somebody's trying to hurt me."
+
+"Hurt him," she rejoined sharply, and her eyes fastened his.
+
+He was about to say there was no him in the matter, but reason steadied
+him, and he said:
+
+"I'll do my best, Junia.  I wish I could tell you, but I can't.  What's
+to be done must be done by myself alone."
+
+"Then it ought to be done well."
+
+With an instant's impulse he moved towards her.  She went to the window,
+however, and she said: "Here's Fabian.  You'll be glad of that.  You'll
+want to say good-bye to him and Sibyl."  She ran from him to the front
+door.  "Fabian--Fabian, here's a bad boy who wants to tell you things
+he won't tell me."  With these words she went into the garden.
+
+"I don't think he'll tell me," came Fabian's voice.  "Why should he?"
+
+A moment afterwards the two men met.
+
+"Well, what's the trouble, Carnac?" asked Fabian in a somewhat
+challenging voice.
+
+"I'm going away."
+
+"Oh--for how long?" Fabian asked quizzically.  "I don't know--a year,
+perhaps.  I want to make myself a better artist, and also free myself."
+
+Now his eyes were on Junia in her summer-time recreation, and her voice,
+humming a light-opera air, was floating to him through the autumn
+morning.
+
+"Has something got you in its grip, then?"
+
+"I'm the victim of a reckless past, like you."  Something provocative was
+in his voice and in his words.
+
+"Was my past reckless?" asked Fabian with sullen eyes.
+
+"Never so reckless as mine.  You fought, quarrelled, hit, sold and bought
+again, and now you're out against your father, fighting him."
+
+"I had to come out or be crushed."
+
+"I'm not so sure you won't be crushed now you're out.  He plays boldly,
+and he knows his game.  One or the other of you must prevail, and I think
+it won't be you, Fabian.  John Grier does as much thinking in an hour as
+most of us do in a month, and with Tarboe he'll beat you dead.  Tarboe is
+young; he's got the vitality of a rhinoceros.  He knows the business from
+the bark on the tree.  He's a flyer, is Tarboe, and you might have been
+in Tarboe's place and succeeded to the business."
+
+Fabian threw out his arms.  "But no!  Father might live another ten
+years--though I don't think so--and I couldn't have stood it.  He was
+lapping me in the mud."
+
+"He doesn't lap Tarboe in the mud."
+
+"No, and he wouldn't have lapped you in the mud, because you've got
+imagination, and you think wide and long when you want to.  But I'm
+middle-class in business.  I've got no genius for the game.  He didn't
+see my steady qualities were what was needed.  He wanted me to be like
+himself, an eagle, and I was only a robin red-breast."
+
+Suddenly his eyes flashed and his teeth set.  "You couldn't stand him,
+wouldn't put up with his tyranny.  You wanted to live your own life, and
+you're doing it.  When he bought me out, what was there for me to do but
+go into the only business I knew, with the only big man in the business,
+besides John Grier.  I've as good blood as he's got in his veins.  I do
+business straight.
+
+"He didn't want me to do it straight.  That's one of the reasons we fell
+out.  John Grier's a big, ruthless trickster.  I wasn't.  I was for
+playing the straight game, and I played it."
+
+"Well, he's got his own way now.  He's got a man who wouldn't blink at
+throttling his own brother, if it'd do him any good.  Tarboe is iron and
+steel; he's the kind that succeeds.  He likes to rule, and he's going to
+get what he wants mostly."
+
+"Is that why you're going away?" asked Fabian.  "Don't you think it'll
+be just as well not to go, if Tarboe is going to get all he wants?"
+
+"Does Tarboe come here?"
+
+"He's been here twice."
+
+"Visiting?"
+
+"No.  He came on urgent business.  There was trouble between our two
+river-driving camps.  He wanted my help to straighten things out, and he
+got it.  He's pretty quick on the move."
+
+"He wanted you to let him settle it?"
+
+"He settled it, and I agreed.  He knows how to handle men; I'll say that
+for him.  He can run reckless on the logs like a river-driver; he can
+break a jam like an expert.  He's not afraid of man, or log, or devil.
+That's his training.  He got that training from John Grier's firm under
+another name.  I used to know him by reputation long before he took my
+place in the business--my place and yours.  You got loose from the
+business only to get tied up in knots of your own tying," he added.
+"What it is I don't know, but you say you're in trouble and I believe
+you."  Suddenly a sharp look came to his face.  "Is it a woman?"
+
+"It's not a man."
+
+"Well, you ought to know how to handle a woman.  You're popular with
+women.  My wife'll never hear a word against you.  I don't know how you
+do it.  We're so little alike, it makes me feel sometimes we're not
+brothers.  I don't know where you get your temperament from."
+
+"It doesn't matter where I got it, it's mine.  I want to earn my own
+living, and I'm doing it."  Admiration came into Fabian's face.  "Yes,"
+he said, "and you don't borrow--"
+
+"And don't beg or steal.  Mother has given me money, and I'm spending my
+own little legacy, all but five thousand dollars of it."
+
+Fabian came up to his brother slowly.  "If you know what's good for you,
+you'll stay where you are.  You're not the only man that ought to be
+married.  Tarboe's a strong man, and he'll be father's partner.  He's
+handsome in his rough way too, is Tarboe.  He knows what he wants, and
+means to have it, and this is a free country.  Our girls, they have their
+own way.  Why don't you settle it now?  Why don't you marry Junia, and
+take her away with you--if she'll have you?"
+
+"I can't--even if she'll have me."
+
+"Why can't you?"
+
+"I'm afraid of the law."
+
+An uneasy smile hung at Carnac's lips.  He suddenly caught Fabian's
+shoulder in a strong grip.  "We've never been close friends, Fabian.
+We've always been at sixes and sevens, and yet I feel you'd rather do me
+a good turn than a bad one.  Let me ask you this--that you'll not believe
+anything bad of me till you've heard what I've got to say.  Will you do
+that?"
+
+Fabian nodded.  "Of course.  But if I were you, I wouldn't bet on myself,
+Carnac.  Junia's worth running risks for.  She's got more brains than my
+wife and me together, and she bosses us; but with you, it's different.
+I think you'd boss her.  You're unexpected; you're daring; and you're
+reckless."
+
+"Yes, I certainly am reckless."
+
+"Then why aren't you reckless now?  You're going away.  Why, you haven't
+even told her you love her.  The other man--is here, and--I've seen him
+look at her?  I know by the way she speaks of him how she feels.
+Besides, he's a great masterful creature.  Don't be a fool!  Have a try
+ .  .  .  Junia--Junia," he called.
+
+The figure in the garden with the flowers turned.  There was a flicker of
+understanding in the rare eyes.  The girl held up a bunch of flowers high
+like a torch.
+
+"I'm coming, my children," she called, and, with a laugh, she ran forward
+through the doorway.
+
+"What is it you want, Fabian?" she asked, conscious that in Carnac's
+face was consternation.  "What can I do for you?" she added, with a
+slight flush.
+
+"Nothing for me, but for Carnac--" Fabian stretched out a hand.
+
+She laughed brusquely.  "Oh, Carnac!  Carnac!  Well, I've been making him
+this bouquet."  She held it out towards him.  "It's a farewell bouquet
+for his little journey in the world.  Take it, Carnac, with everybody's
+love--with Fabian's love, with Sibyl's love, with my love.  Take it, and
+good-bye."
+
+With a laugh she caught up her hat from the table, and a moment later she
+was in the street making for the mountain-side up which the children had
+gone.
+
+Carnac placed the bouquet upon the table.  Then he turned to his brother.
+
+"What a damn mess you make of things, Fabian!"
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+All genius is at once a blessing or a curse
+Do what you feel you've got to do, and never mind what happens
+Had got unreasonably old
+How many sons have ever added to their father's fame?
+Never give up your soul to things only, keep it for people
+We do what we forbid ourselves to do
+We suffer the shames we damn in others
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CARNAC'S FOLLY
+
+By Gilbert Parker
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+XIII.     CARNAC'S RETURN
+XIV.      THE HOUSE OF THE THREE TREES
+XV.       CARNAC AND JUNTA
+XVI.      JOHN GRIER MAKES A JOURNEY
+XVII.     THE READING OF THE WILL
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+CARNAC'S RETURN
+
+"Well, what's happened since I've been gone, mother?" asked Carnac.  "Is
+nobody we're interested in married, or going to be married?"
+
+It was spring-time eight months after Carnac had vanished from Montreal,
+and the sun of late April was melting the snow upon the hills, bringing
+out the smell of the sprouting verdure and the exultant song of the
+birds.
+
+His mother replied sorrowfully: "Junia's been away since last fall.  Her
+aunt in the West was taken ill, and she's been with her ever since.  Tell
+me, dearest, is everything all right now?  Are you free to do what you
+want?"
+
+He shook his head morosely.  "No, everything's all wrong.  I blundered,
+and I'm paying the price."
+
+"You didn't find Luzanne Larue?"
+
+"Yes, I found her, but it was no good.  I said there was divorce, and she
+replied I'd done it with my eyes open, and had signed our names in the
+book of the hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Carnac Grier and divorce would not be
+possible.  Also, I'd let things go for a year, and what jury would give
+me relief!  I consulted a lawyer.  He said she had the game in her hands,
+and that a case could be put up that would discredit me with jury or
+judge, so there it is.  .  .  .  Well, bad as she is, she's fond of me
+in her way.  I don't think she's ever gone loose with any man; this is
+only a craze, I'm sure.  She wanted me, and she meant to have me."
+
+His mother protested: "No pure, straight, honest girl would--"
+
+Carnac laughed bitterly, and interrupted.  "Don't talk that way, mother.
+The girl was brought up among exiles and political criminals in the
+purlieu of Montmartre.  What's possible in one place is impossible in
+another.  Devil as she is, I want to do her justice."
+
+"Did she wear a wedding-ring?"
+
+"No, but she used my name as her own: I saw it on the paper door-plate.
+She said she would wait awhile longer, but if at the end of six months I
+didn't do my duty, she'd see the thing through here among my own people."
+
+"Six months--it's overdue now!" She said in agitation.
+
+He nodded helplessly.  "I'm in hell as things are.  There's only this to
+be said: She's done naught yet, and she mayn't do aught!"
+
+They were roused by the click of the gate.  "That's your father--that's
+John Grier," she said.
+
+They heard the front door open and shut, a footstep in the hall, then the
+door opened and John Grier came into the room.
+
+Preoccupation, abstraction, filled his face, as he came forward.  It was
+as though he was looking at something distant that both troubled and
+pleased him.  When he saw Carnac he stopped, his face flushed.  For an
+instant he stood unmoving, and then he held out his hand.
+
+"So you've come back, Carnac.  When did you get here?"
+
+As Carnac released his hand from John Grier's cold clasp, he said: "A
+couple of hours ago."
+
+The old man scrutinized him sharply, carefully.  "Getting on--making
+money?" he asked.  "Got your hand in the pocket of the world?"
+
+Carnac shook his head.  "I don't care much about the pocket of the world,
+but they like my work in London and New York.  I don't get Royal Academy
+prices, but I do pretty well."
+
+"Got some pride, eh?"
+
+"I'm always proud when anybody outside Montreal mentions your name!
+It makes me feel I have a place in the world."
+
+"Guess you've made your own place," said the other, pleasure coming to
+his cheek.  "You've got your own shovel and pick to make wealth."
+
+"I care little about wealth.  All I want is enough to clothe and feed me,
+and give me a little home."
+
+"A little home!  Yes, it's time," remarked the other, as he seated
+himself in his big chair by the table.  "Why don't you marry?"
+
+The old man's eyes narrowed until there could only be seen a slit of fire
+between the lids, and a bitter smile came to his lips.  He had told his
+wife a year ago that he had cut Carnac out of all business consideration.
+So now, he added:
+
+"Tarboe's taken your place in the business, Carnac.  Look out he doesn't
+take your little home too."
+
+"He's had near a year, and he hasn't done it yet."
+
+"Is that through any virtue of yours?"
+
+"Probably not," answered Carnac ironically.  "But I've been away; he's
+been here.  He's had everything with him.  Why hasn't he pulled it off
+then?"
+
+"He pulls off everything he plans.  He's never fallen over his own feet
+since he's been with me, and, if I can help it, he won't have a fall when
+I'm gone."
+
+Suddenly he got to his feet; a fit of passion seized him.  "What's Junia
+to me--nothing!  I've every reason to dislike her, but she comes and goes
+as if the place belonged to her.  She comes to my office; she comes to
+this house; she visits Fabian; she tries to boss everybody.  Why don't
+you regularize it?  Why don't you marry her, and then we'll know where we
+are?  She's got more brains than anybody else in our circle.  She's got
+tact and humour.  Her sister's a fool; she's done harm.  Junia's got
+sense.  What are you waiting for?  I wouldn't leave her for Tarboe!  Look
+here, Carnac, I wanted you to do what Tarboe's doing, and you wouldn't.
+You cheeked me--so I took him in.  He's made good every foot of the way.
+He's a wonder.  I'm a millionaire.  I'm two times a millionaire, and I
+got the money honestly.  I gave one-third of it to Fabian, and he left
+us.  I paid him in cash, and now he's fighting me."
+
+Carnac bristled up: "What else could he do?  He might have lived on the
+interest of the money, and done nothing.  You trained him for business,
+and he's gone on with the business you trained him for.  There are other
+lumber firms.  Why don't you quarrel with them?  Why do you drop on
+Fabian as if he was dirt?"
+
+"Belloc's a rogue and a liar."
+
+"What difference does that make?  Isn't it a fair fight?  Don't you want
+anybody to sit down or stand up till you tell them to?  Is it your view
+you shall tyrannize, browbeat, batter, and then that everybody you love,
+or pretend to love, shall bow down before you as though you were eternal
+law?  I'm glad I didn't.  I'm making my own life.  You gave me a chance
+in your business, and I tried it, and declined it.  You gave it to some
+one else, and I approved of it.  What more do you want?"
+
+Suddenly a new spirit of defiance awoke in him.  "What I owe you I don't
+know, but if you'll make out what you think is due, for what you've done
+for me in the way of food and clothes and education, I'll see you get it
+all.  Meanwhile, I want to be free to move and do as I will."
+
+John Grier sat down in his chair again, cold, merciless, with a scornful
+smile.
+
+"Yes, yes," he said slowly, "you'd have made a great business man if
+you'd come with me.  You refused.  I don't understand you--I never did.
+There's only one thing that's alike in us, and that's a devilish self-
+respect, self-assertion, self-dependence.  There's nothing more to be
+said between us--nothing that counts.  Don't get into a passion, Carnac.
+It don't become you.  Good-night--good-night."
+
+Suddenly his mother's face produced a great change in Carnac.  Horror,
+sorrow, remorse, were all there.  He looked at John Grier; then at his
+mother.  The spirit of the bigger thing crept into his heart.  He put his
+arm around his mother and kissed her.
+
+"Good-night, mother," he said.  Then he went to his father and held out a
+hand.  "You don't mind my speaking what I think?" he continued, with a
+smile.  "I've had a lot to try me.  Shake hands with me, father.  We
+haven't found the way to walk together yet.  Perhaps it will come; I hope
+so."
+
+Again a flash of passion seized John Grier.  He got to his feet.  "I'll
+not shake hands with you, not to night.  You can't put the knife in and
+turn it round, and then draw it out and put salve on the wound and say
+everything's all right.  Everything's all wrong.  My family's been my
+curse.  First one, then another, and then all against me,--my whole
+family against me!"
+
+He dropped back in his chair sunk in gloomy reflection.
+
+"Well, good-night," said Carnac.  "It will all come right some day."
+
+A moment afterwards he was gone.  His mother sat down in her seat by the
+window; his father sat brooding by the table.
+
+Carnac stole down the hillside, his heart burning in him.  It had not
+been a successful day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE HOUSE OF THE THREE TREES
+
+During Carnac's absence, Denzil had lain like an animal, watching, as it
+were, the doorway out of which Tarboe came and went.  His gloom at last
+became fanaticism.  During all the eight months of Carnac's absence he
+prowled in the precincts of memory.
+
+While Junia was at home he had been watchfully determined to save her
+from Tarboe, if possible.  He had an obsession of wrong-mindedness which
+is always attached to crime.  Though Luke Tarboe had done him no wrong,
+and was entitled, if he could, to win Junia for himself, to the mind of
+Denzil the stain of his brother's past was on Tarboe's life.  He saw
+Tarboe and Junia meet; he knew Tarboe put himself in her way, and he was
+right in thinking that the girl, with a mind for comedy and coquetry, was
+drawn instinctively to danger.
+
+Undoubtedly the massive presence of Tarboe, his animal-like, bull-headed
+persistency, the fun at his big mouth and the light in his bold eye had a
+kind of charm for her.  It was as though she placed herself within the
+danger zone to try her strength, her will; and she had done it without
+real loss.  More than once, as she waited in the office for old John
+Grier to come, she had a strange, intuitive feeling that Tarboe might
+suddenly grip her in his arms.
+
+She flushed at the thought of it; it seemed so absurd.  Yet that very
+thought had passed through the mind of the man.  He was by nature a
+hunter; he was self-willed and reckless.  No woman had ever moved him in
+his life until this girl crossed his path, and he reached out towards her
+with the same will to control that he had used in the business of life.
+Yet, while this brute force suggested physical control of the girl, it
+had its immediate reaction.  She was so fine, so delicate, and yet so
+full of summer and the free unfettered life of the New World, so
+unimpassioned physically, yet so passionate in mind and temperament,
+that he felt he must atone for the wild moment's passion--the passion
+of possession, which had made him long to crush her to his breast.  There
+was nothing physically repulsive in it; it was the wild, strong life of
+conquering man, of which he had due share.  For, as he looked at her
+sitting in his office, her perfect health, her slim boyishness, her
+exquisite lines and graceful turn of hand, arm and body, or the flower-
+like turn of the neck, were the very harmony and poetry of life.  But she
+was terribly provoking too; and he realized that she was an unconscious
+coquette, that her spirit loved mastery as his did.
+
+Denzil could not know this, however.  It was impossible for him to
+analyse the natures of these two people.  He had instinct, but not enough
+to judge the whole situation, and so for two months after Carnac
+disappeared he had lived a life of torture.  Again and again he had
+determined to tell Junia the story of Tarboe's brother, but instinctive
+delicacy stopped him.  He could not tell her the terrible story which
+had robbed him of all he loved and had made him the avenger of the dead.
+A half-dozen times after she came back from John Grier's office, with
+slightly heightening colour, and the bright interest in her eyes, and had
+gone about the garden fondling the flowers, he had started towards her;
+but had stopped short before her natural modesty.  Besides, why should he
+tell her?  She had her own life to make, her own row to hoe.  Yet, as the
+weeks passed, it seemed he must break upon this dangerous romance; and
+then suddenly she went to visit her sick aunt in the Far West.  Denzil
+did not know, however, that, in John Grier's office as she had gone over
+figures of a society in which she was interested, the big hand of Tarboe
+had suddenly closed upon her fingers, and that his head bent down beside
+hers for one swift instant, as though he would whisper to her.  Then she
+quickly detached herself, yet smiled at him, as she said reprovingly:
+
+"You oughtn't to do that.  You'll spoil our friendship."
+
+She did not wait longer.  As he stretched out his hands to her, his face
+had gone pale: she vanished through the doorway, and in forty-eight hours
+was gone to her sick aunt.  The autumn had come and the winter and the
+spring, and the spring was almost gone when she returned; and, with her
+return, Catastrophe lifted its head in the person of Denzil.
+
+Perhaps it was imperative instinct that brought Junia back in an hour
+coincident with Carnac's return--perhaps.  In any case, there it was.
+They had both returned, as it were, in the self-same hour, each having
+endured a phase of emotion not easy to put on paper.
+
+Denzil told her of Carnac's return, and she went to the house where
+Carnac's mother lived, and was depressed at what she saw and felt.  Mrs.
+Grier's face was not that of one who had good news.  The long arms almost
+hurt when they embraced her.  Yet Carnac was a subject of talk between
+them--open, clear eyed talk.  The woman did not know what to say, except
+to praise her boy, and the girl asked questions cheerfully, unimportantly
+as to sound, but with every nerve tingling.  There was, however, so much
+of the comedienne in her, so much coquetry, that only one who knew her
+well could have seen the things that troubled her behind all.  As though
+to punish herself, she began to speak of Tarboe, and Mrs. Grier's face
+clouded; she spoke more of Tarboe, and the gloom deepened.  Then, with
+the mask of coquetry still upon her she left Carnac's mother abashed,
+sorrowful and alone.
+
+Tarboe had called in her absence.  Entering the garden, he saw Denzil at
+work.  At the click of the gate Denzil turned, and came forward.
+
+"She ain't home," he said bluntly.  "She's out.  She ain't here.  She's
+up at Mr. Grier's house, bien sur."
+
+To Tarboe Denzil's words were offensive.  It was none of Denzil's
+business whether he came or went in this house, or what his relations
+with Junia were.  Democrat though he was, he did not let democracy
+transgress his personal associations.  He knew that the Frenchman was
+less likely to say and do the crude thing than the Britisher.
+
+Tarboe knew of the position held by Denzil in the Shale household; and
+that long years of service had given him authority.  All this, however,
+could not atone for the insolence of Denzil's words, but he had
+controlled men too long to act rashly.
+
+"When will Mademoiselle be back?" he asked, putting a hand on himself.
+
+"To-night," answered Denzil, with an antipathetic eye.
+
+"Don't be a damn fool.  Tell me the hour when you think she will be at
+home.  Before dinner--within the next sixty minutes?"
+
+"Ma'm'selle is under no orders.  She didn't say when she would be back--
+but no!"
+
+"Do you think she'll be back for dinner?" asked Tarboe, smothering his
+anger, but get to get his own way.
+
+"I think she'll be back for dinner!" and he drove the spade into the
+ground.
+
+"Then I'll sit down and wait."  Tarboe made for the verandah.
+
+Denzil presently trotted after and said:  "I'd like a word with you."
+
+Tarboe turned round.  "Well, what have you got to say?"
+
+"Better be said in my house, not here," replied Denzil.  His face was
+pale, but there was fire in his eyes.  There was no danger of violence,
+and, if there were, Tarboe could deal with it.  Why should there be
+violence?  Why should that semi-insanity in Denzil's eyes disturb him?
+The one thing to do was to forge ahead.  He nodded.
+
+"Where are you taking me?" he asked presently, as they passed through
+the gate.
+
+"To my little house by the Three Trees.  I've got things I'd like to show
+you, and there's some things I'd like to say.  You are a big hulk of a
+man, and I'm nobody, but yet I've been close to you and yours in my time
+--that's so, for sure."
+
+"You've been close to me and mine in your time, eh?  I didn't know that."
+
+"No, you didn't know it.  Nobody knew it--I've kept it to myself.  Your
+family wasn't all first-class--but no."
+
+They soon reached the plain board-house, with the well-laid foundation of
+stone, by the big Three Trees.  Inside the little spare, undecorated
+room, Tarboe looked round.  It was all quiet and still enough.  It was
+like a lodge in the wilderness.  Somehow, the atmosphere of it made him
+feel apart and lonely.  Perhaps that was a little due to the timbered
+ceiling, to the walls with cedar scantlings showing, to the crude look of
+everything-the head of a moose, the skins hanging down the sides of the
+walls, the smell of the cedar, and the swift movement of a tame red
+squirrel, which ran up the walls and over the floor and along the
+chimney-piece, for Denzil avoided the iron stove so common in these new
+cold lands, and remained faithful to a huge old-fashioned mantel.
+
+Presently Denzil faced him, having closed the door.  "I said I'd been
+near to your family and you didn't believe me.  Sit down, please to, and
+I'll tell you my story."
+
+Seating himself with a little curt laugh, Tarboe waved a hand as though
+to say: "Go ahead.  I'm ready."
+
+It was difficult for Denzil to begin.  He walked up and down the room,
+muttering and shaking his head.  Presently, however, he made the Sign of
+the Cross upon himself, and, leaning against the wall, and opposite to
+Tarboe, he began the story he had told Carnac.
+
+His description of his dead fiancee had flashes of poetry and
+excruciating touches of life:
+
+"She had no mother, and there was lots of things she didn't know because
+of that--ah, plenty!  She had to learn, and she brought on her own
+tragedy by not knowing that men, even when good to look at, can't be
+trusted; that every place, even in the woods and the fields where every
+one seems safe to us outdoor people, ain't safe--but no.  So she trusted,
+and then one day--"
+
+For the next five minutes the words poured from him in moroseness.  He
+drew a picture of the lonely wood, of the believing credulous girl and
+the masterful, intellectual, skilful man.  In the midst of it Tarboe
+started.  The description of the place and of the man was familiar.  He
+had a vision of a fair young girl encompassed by clanger; he saw her in
+the man's arms; the man's lips to hers, and--
+
+"Good God--good God!" he said twice, for a glimmer of the truth struck
+him.  He knew what his brother had done.  He could conceive the revenge
+to his brother's amorous hand.  He listened till the whole tale was told;
+till the death of the girl in the pond at home--back in her own little
+home.  Then the rest of the story shook him.
+
+"The verdict of the coroner's court was that he was shot by his own hand
+--by accident," said Denzil.  "That was the coroner's verdict, but yes!
+Well, he was shot by his own gun, but not by his own hand.  There was
+some one who loved the girl, took toll.  The world did not know, and does
+not know, but you know--you--you, the brother of him that spoiled a
+woman's life!  Do you think such a man should live?  She was the sweetest
+girl that ever lived, and she loved me!  She told me the truth--and he
+died by his own gun--in the woods; but it wasn't accident--it wasn't
+accident--but no!  The girl had gone, but behind her was some one that
+loved her, and he settled it once for all."
+
+As he had told the story, Denzil's body seemed to contract; his face took
+on an insane expression.  It was ghastly pale, but his eyes ware aflame.
+His arms stretched out with grim realism as he told of the death of
+Almeric Tarboe.
+
+"You've got the whole truth, m'sieu'.  I've told it you at last.  I've
+never been sorry for killing him--never--never--never.  Now, what are you
+going to do about it--you--his brother--you that come here making love
+too?"
+
+As the truth dawned upon Tarboe, his great figure stretched itself.  A
+black spirit possessed him.
+
+When Denzil had finished, Tarboe stood up.  There was dementia, cruelty,
+stark purpose in his eyes, in every movement.
+
+"What am I going to do?  You killed my brother!  Well, I'm going to kill
+you.  God blast your soul--I'm going to kill you!"
+
+He suddenly swooped upon Denzil, his fingers clenched about the thick
+throat, insane rage was on him.
+
+At that moment there was a knock at the door, it opened, and Carnac
+stepped inside.  He realized the situation and rushed forward.  There was
+no time to struggle.
+
+"Let him go," he cried.  "You devil--let him go."  Then with all his
+might, he struck Tarboe in the face.  The blow brought understanding back
+to Tarboe.  His fingers loosed from the Frenchman's throat, and Carnac
+caught Denzil as he fell backwards.
+
+"Good God!" said Carnac.  "Good God, Tarboe!  Wasn't it enough for your
+brother to take this man's love without your trying to take his life?"
+
+Carnac's blow brought conviction to Tarboe, whose terrible rage passed
+away.  He wiped the blood from his face.
+
+"Is the little devil all right?" he whispered.
+
+Denzil spoke: "Yes.  This is the second time M'sieu' Carnac has saved my
+life."
+
+Carnac intervened.  "Tell me, Tarboe, what shall you do, now you know the
+truth?"
+
+At last Tarboe thrust out a hand.  "I don't know the truth," he said.
+
+By this Carnac knew that Denzil was safe from the law.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+CARNAC AND JUNIA
+
+Tarboe did not see Junia that evening nor for many evenings, but Carnac
+and Junia met the next day in her own house.  He came on her as she was
+arranging the table for midday dinner.  She had taken up again the
+threads of housekeeping, cheering her father, helping the old French-
+woman cook--a huge creature who moved like a small mountain, and was a
+tyrant in her way to the old cheerful avocat, whose life had been a
+struggle for existence, yet whose one daughter had married a rich
+lumberman, and whose other daughter could marry wealth, handsomeness
+and youth, if she chose.
+
+When Carnac saw Junia she was entering the dining-room with flowers and
+fruit, and he recalled the last time they met, when she had thrust the
+farewell bouquet of flowers into his hand.  That was in the early autumn,
+and this was in late spring, and the light in her face was as glowing as
+then.  A remembrance of the scene came to the minds of both, and the girl
+gave a little laugh.
+
+"Well, well, Carnac," she said gaily, her cheek flushing, her eyes warm
+with colour: "well, I sent you away with flowers.  Did they bring you
+luck?"  She looked him steadily in the eyes.
+
+"Yes, they brought me a perfect remembrance--of one who has always been
+to me like the balm of Gilead."
+
+"Soothing and stimulating, eh?" she asked, as she put the flowers on the
+table and gave him her hand--no, she suddenly gave him both hands with a
+rush of old-time friendship, which robbed it of all personal emotion.
+
+For a moment he held her hands.  He felt them tremble in his warm clasp,
+the delicate, shivering pulsation of youth, the womanly feeling.  It was
+for an instant only, because she withdrew her fingers.  Then she caught
+up an apple from the dish she had brought in, and tossed it to him.
+
+"For a good boy," she said.  "You have been a good boy, haven't you?"
+
+"I think so, chiefly by remembering a good girl."
+
+"That's a pretty compliment--meant for me?"
+
+"Yes, meant for you.  I think you understand me better than anyone else."
+
+He noticed her forehead wrinkle slightly, and a faint, incredulous smile
+come to her lips.
+
+"I shouldn't think I understand you, Carnac," she said, over her
+shoulder, as she arranged dishes on the sideboard.  "I shouldn't think I
+know you well.  There's no Book of Revelations of your life except in
+your face."
+
+She suddenly turned full on him, and held his eyes.  "Carnac, I think
+your face looks honest.  I've always thought so, and yet I think you're
+something of a scamp, a rogue and a thief."
+
+There was determination at her lips, through which, though only slightly
+apart, her beautiful teeth, so straight, so regular, showed.  "You don't
+play fair.  What's the good of having a friend if you don't tell your
+friend your troubles?  And you've been in trouble, Carnac, and you're
+fighting it through alone.  Is that wise?  You ought to tell some bad
+man, or some good woman--if they're both clever--what's vexing you.
+
+"You see the bad clever man would probably think out something that would
+have the same effect as the good clever woman.  They never would think
+out the same thing, but each 'd think out what would help you."
+
+"But you've just said I'm a bad clever man.  Why shouldn't I work out my
+own trouble?"
+
+"Oh, you're bad enough," she answered, "but you're not clever enough."
+
+He smiled grimly.  "I'm not sure though about the woman.  Perhaps I'll
+tell the good clever woman some day and let her help me, if she can.
+But I'd warn her it won't be easy."
+
+"Then there's another woman in it!"
+
+He did not answer.  He could not let her know the truth, yet he was sure
+she would come to know it one way or another.
+
+At that moment she leaned over the table and stretched a hand to arrange
+something.  The perfection of her poise, the beauty of her lines, the
+charm of her face seized Carnac, and, with an impulse, he ran his arm
+around her waist.
+
+"Junia--Junia!" he said in a voice of rash, warm feeling.
+
+She was like a wild bird caught in its flight.  A sudden stillness held
+her, and then she turned her head towards him, subdued inquiry in her
+eyes.  For a moment only she looked--and then she said:
+
+"Take your arm away, please."
+
+The conviction that he ought not to make any sign of love to her broke
+his sudden passion.  He drew back ashamed, yet defiant, rebuked, yet
+rebellious.  It was like a challenge to her.  A sarcastic smile crossed
+her lips.
+
+"What a creature of impulses you are, Carnac!  When we were children the
+day you saved Denzil years ago you flung your arms around me and kissed
+me.  I didn't understand anything then, and what's more I don't think you
+did.  You were a wilful, hazardous boy, and went your way taking the
+flowers in the garden that didn't belong to you.  Yet after all these
+years, with an impulse behind which there is nothing--nothing at all,
+you repeat that incident."
+
+Suddenly passion seemed to possess her.  "How dare you trifle with things
+that mean so much!  Have you learned nothing since I saw you last?  Can
+nothing teach you, Carnac?  Can you not learn how to play the big part?
+If you weren't grown up, do you know what I would do?  I would slap the
+face of an insolent, thoughtless, hopeless boy."  Then her temper seemed
+to pass.  She caught up an apple again and thrust it into his hand.  "Go
+and eat that, Adam.  Perhaps it'll make you wise like the old Adam.  He
+put his faults upon a woman."
+
+"So do I," said Carnac.  "So do I."
+
+"That's what you would do, but you mustn't play that sort of game with a
+good woman."  She burst out laughing.  "For a man you're a precious fool!
+I don't think I want to see you again.  You don't improve.  You're full
+of horrid impulses."  Her indignation came back.  "How dare you put your
+arm around me!"
+
+"It was the impulse of my heart.  I can say no more; if I could I would.
+There's something I should like to tell you, but I mustn't."  He put the
+apple down.
+
+"About the other woman, I suppose," she said coldly, the hot indignation
+gone from her lips.
+
+He looked her steadfastly in the eyes.  "If you won't trust me--if you
+won't trust me--"
+
+"I've always trusted you," she replied, "but I don't trust you now.
+Don't you understand that a good girl hates conduct like yours?"
+
+Suddenly with anger he turned upon her.  "Yes, I understand everything,
+but you don't understand.  Why won't you believe that the reason I won't
+tell you my trouble is that it's best you shouldn't know?  You're a young
+girl; you don't know life; you haven't seen it as I've seen it--in the
+sewage, in the ditch, on the road, on the mountain and in the bog.  I
+want you to keep faith with your old friend who doesn't care what the
+rest of the world thinks, but who wants your confidence.  Trust me--don't
+condemn me.  Believe me, I haven't been wanton.  Won't you trust me?"
+
+The spirit of egotism was alive in her.  She knew how much she had denied
+herself in the past months.  She did not know whether she loved him, but
+injured pride tortured her.  Except in a dance and in sports at a picnic
+or recreation-ground no man had ever put his arms around her.  No man
+except Carnac, and that he had done it was like a lash upon the raw
+skinless flesh.  If she had been asked by the Almighty whether she loved
+Carnac, she would have said she did not know.  This was not a matter of
+love; but of womanhood, of self-respect, of the pride of one who cannot
+ask for herself what she wants in the field of love, who must wait to be
+wooed and won.
+
+"You don't think I'm straight," he said in protest.  "You think I'm no
+good, that I'm a fraud.  You're wrong.  Believe me, that is the truth."
+He came closer up to her.  "Junia, if you'll stand by me, I'm sure I'll
+come out right.  I've been caught in a mesh I can't untangle yet, but it
+can be untangled, and when it is, you shall know everything, because then
+you'll understand.  I can free myself from the tangle, but it could never
+be explained--not so the world would believe.  I haven't trifled with
+you.  I would believe in you even if I saw, or thought I saw, the signs
+of wrong in you.  I would know that at heart you were good.  I put my
+faith in you long ago--last year I staked all on your friendship, and I
+haven't been deceived."
+
+He smiled at her, his soul in his eyes.  There was truth in his smile,
+and she realized it.
+
+After a moment, she put out a hand and pushed him gently from her.  "Go
+away, Carnac, please--now," she said softly.
+
+A moment afterwards he was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+JOHN GRIER MAKES A JOURNEY
+
+John Grier's business had beaten all past records.  Tarboe was
+everywhere: on the river, in the saw-mills, in the lumber-yards, in the
+office.  Health and strength and goodwill were with him, and he had the
+confidence of all men in the lumber-world.  It was rumoured that he was a
+partner of John Grier, and it was a good thing for him as well as for the
+business.  He was no partner, however; he was on a salary with a bonus
+percentage of the profits; but that increased his vigour.
+
+There were times when he longed for the backwoods life; when the smell of
+the pines and the firs and the juniper got into his nostrils; when he
+heard, in imagination, the shouts of the river-men as they chopped down
+the trees, sawed the boles into standard lengths, and plunged the big
+timbers into the stream, or round the fire at night made call upon the
+spirit of recreation.  In imagination, he felt the timbers creaking and
+straining under his feet; he smelt the rich soup from the cook's caboose;
+he drank basins of tea from well-polished metal; he saw the ugly rows in
+the taverns, where men let loose from river duty tried to regain civilian
+life by means of liquor and cards; he heard the stern thud of a hard fist
+against a piece of wood; he saw twenty men spring upon another twenty
+with rage in their faces; he saw hundreds of men arrived in civilization
+once again striking for their homes and loved ones, storming with life.
+He saw the door flung open, and the knee-booted, corduroyed river-man,
+with red sash around his waist and gold rings in his ears, seize the
+woman he called wife and swing her to him with a hungry joy; he saw the
+children pushed gently here, or roughly, but playfully, tossed in the air
+and caught again; but he also saw the rough spirits of the river march
+into their homes like tyrants returned, as it were, cursing and banging
+their way back to their rightful nests.
+
+Occasionally he would wish to be in it all again, out in the wild woods
+and on the river and in the shanty, free and strong and friendly and a
+bit ferocious.  All he had known of the backwoods life filled his veins,
+tortured him at times.
+
+From the day that both wills were made and signed, no word had been
+spoken concerning them between him and John Grier.  He admired certain
+characteristics of John Grier; some secret charities, some impulsive
+generosity, some signs of public spirit.  The old man was fond of
+animals, and had given water-troughs to the town; and his own horses and
+the horses he used in the woods were always well fed.  Also, in all his
+arrangements for the woods, he was generous.  He believed in feeding his
+men well.  It was rough food--beans, potatoes, peas, lentils, pork in
+barrels-salted pork; but there was bread of the best, rich soup, pork
+well boiled and fried, with good tea, freshly made.  This was the regular
+fare, and men throve on it.
+
+One day, however, shortly after Carnac's return home, there came a change
+in the scene.  Things had been going badly for a couple of days and the
+old man had been seriously overworked.  He had not listened to the
+warnings of Tarboe, or to the hints thrown out by his own punished
+physique.  He was not a man to take hints.  Everything that vexed his
+life roused opposition.  This Tarboe knew, but he also knew that the
+business must suffer, if the old man suffered.
+
+When John Grier left the office it was with head bowed and mind
+depressed.  Nothing had happened to cause him grave anxiety, yet he had
+been below par for several hours.  Why was he working so hard?  Why was
+life to him such a concentration?  Why did he seek for more money and to
+get more power?  To whom could it go?  Not to Fabian; not to his wife.
+To Tarboe--well, there was not enough in that!  This man had only lately
+come into his life, and was only near to him in a business sense.  Carnac
+was near in every sense that really mattered, and Carnac was out of it
+all.
+
+He was not loved, and in his heart of hearts he knew it, but he had had
+his own way, and he loved himself.  No one seemed to care for him, not
+even his wife.  How many years was it since they had roomed together?
+Yet as he went towards his own home now, he recalled the day they were
+married, and for the first time had drawn as near to each other as life
+could draw.  He had thought her wonderful then, refined, and oh! so rich
+in life's gifts.  His love had almost throttled her.  She was warm and
+bountiful and full of temperament.  So it went for three years, and then
+slowly he drew away from her until at last, returning from the backwoods,
+he had gone to another room, and there had stayed.  Very occasionally he
+had smothered her with affection, but that had passed, until now, middle-
+aged, she seemed to be not a room away from him, but a thousand rooms
+away.  He saw it with no reproach to himself.  He forgot it was he who
+had left her room, and had set up his own tabernacle, because his hours
+differed from hers, and because she tossed in her bed at nights, and that
+made him restless too.
+
+Yet, if his love had been the real thing, he would have stayed, because
+their lives were so similar, and the rules of domestic life in French
+Canada were so fixed.  He had spoiled his own household, destroyed his
+own peace, forsaken his own nest, outlived his hope and the possibility
+of further hope, except more business success, more to leave behind him.
+
+That was the stern truth.  Had he been a different man the devotion his
+wife had shown would have drawn him back to her; had she been a different
+woman, unvexed by a horrible remembrance, she would have made his soul
+her own and her soul his own once again.  She had not dared to tell him
+the truth; afraid more for her boy's sake than for her own.  She had been
+glad that Tarboe had helped to replace the broken link with Fabian, that
+he had taken the place which Carnac, had he been John Grier's son, ought
+to have taken.  She could not blame Carnac, and she could not blame her
+husband, but the thing ate into her heart.
+
+John Grier found her sitting by her table in the great living-room,
+patient and grave, and yet she smiled at him, and rose as he came into
+the room.  His troubled face brought her forward quickly.  She stretched
+out a hand appealingly to him.
+
+"What's the matter, John?  Has anything upset you?"
+
+"I'm not upset."
+
+"Yes you are," she urged, "but, yes, you are!  Something has gone wrong."
+
+"Nothing's gone wrong that hasn't been wrong for many a year," he said.
+
+"What's been wrong for many a year?"
+
+"The boys you brought into this world--your sons!" he burst out.  "Why
+isn't Carnac working with me?  There must have been something damned bad
+in the bringing up of those boys.  I've not, got the love of any of you,
+and I know it.  Why should I be thrown over by every one?"
+
+"Every one hasn't thrown you over.  Mr. Tarboe hasn't.  You've been in
+great spirits about him.  What's the matter?"
+
+He waved a hand savagely at her, with an almost insane look in his eyes.
+
+"What's he to me!  He's a man of business.  In a business way I like him,
+but I want my own flesh and blood by me in my business.  I wanted Carnac,
+and he wouldn't come--a few weeks only he came.  I had Fabian, and he
+wouldn't stay.  If I'd had a real chance--"
+
+He broke off, with an outward savage protest of his hands, his voice
+falling.
+
+"If you'd had your chance, you'd have made your own home happy," she said
+sadly.  "That was your first duty, not your business--your home--your
+home!  You didn't care about it.  There were times when for months you
+forgot me; and then--then--"
+
+Suddenly a dreadful suspicion seized his brain.  His head bent forward,
+his shoulders thrust out, he stumbled towards her.
+
+"Then--well, what then!" he gasped.  "Then--you--forgot--"
+
+She realized she had gone too far, saw the storm in his mind.
+
+"No--no--no, I didn't forget you, John.  Never--but--"
+
+She got no farther.  Suddenly his hands stretched out as if to seize her
+shoulders, his face became tortured--he swayed.  She caught him.  She
+lowered him to the floor, and put a hassock under his head.  Then she
+rang the bell--rang it--and rang again.
+
+When help came, all was too late.  John Grier had gone for ever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE READING OF THE WILL
+
+As Tarboe stood in the church alone at the funeral, in a pew behind John
+Grier's family, sadness held him.  He had known, as no one else knew,
+that the business would pass into his own hands.  He suddenly felt his
+task too big for him, and he looked at Carnac now with sympathy.  Carnac
+had brains, capacity, could almost take his father's place; he was
+tactful, intuitive, alert.  Yet Carnac, at present, was out of the
+question.  He knew the stress of spirit which had turned Carnac from
+the opportunity lying at his feet.
+
+In spite of himself there ran through his mind another thought.  Near by,
+at the left, dressed in mourning also, was Junia.  He had made up his
+mind that Junia should be his, and suddenly the usefulness of the
+business about to fall into his hands became a weapon in the field of
+Love.  He was physically a finer man than Carnac; he had capacity; he had
+personality; and he would have money and position--for a time at least.
+In that time, why should he not win this girl with the wonderful eyes and
+hair, with the frankness and candour of unspoiled girlhood in her face?
+Presently he would be in the blare of sensation, in the height of as
+dramatic an episode as comes to the lives of men; and in the episode he
+saw advantages which should weigh with any girl.
+
+Then had come the reading of the will after the funeral rites were over,
+and he, with the family, were gathered in the dining-room of the House on
+the Hill.
+
+He was scarcely ready, however, for the prodigious silence following the
+announcement read by the lawyer.  He felt as though life was suspended
+for many minutes, when it was proclaimed that he, Luke Tarboe, would
+inherit the property.  Although he knew of the contents of the will his
+heart was thumping like a sledge-hammer.
+
+He looked round the room slowly.  The only embarrassment to be seen was
+on the faces of Fabian and his wife.  Mrs. Grier and Carnac showed
+nothing.  Carnac did not even move; by neither gesture nor motion of body
+did he show aught.  At the close of it all, he came to Tarboe and held
+out a hand.
+
+"Good luck to you, Tarboe!" he said.  "You'll make a success, and that's
+what he wanted more than anything else.  Good luck to you!" he said
+again and turned away.  .  .  .
+
+When John Grier's will was published in the Press consternation filled
+the minds of all.  Tarboe had been in the business for under two years,
+yet here he was left all the property with uncontracted power.  Mrs. John
+Grier was to be paid during her life a yearly stipend of twenty thousand
+dollars from the business; she also received a grant of seventy thousand
+dollars.  Beyond that, there were a few gifts to hospitals and for the
+protection of horses, while to the clergyman of the parish went one
+thousand dollars.  It certainly could not be called a popular will, and,
+complimentary as the newspapers were to the energy and success of John
+Grier, few of them called him public-spirited, or a generous-hearted
+citizen.  In his death he paid the price of his egotism.
+
+The most surprised person, however, was Junia Shale.
+
+To her it was shameful that Carnac should be eliminated from all share in
+the abundant fortune John Grier had built up.  It seemed fantastic that
+the fortune and the business--and the business was the fortune--should be
+left to Tarboe.  Had she known the contents of the will before John Grier
+was buried, she would not have gone to the funeral.  Egotistic she had
+known Grier to be, and she imagined the will to be a sudden result of
+anger.  He was dead and buried.  The places that knew him knew him no
+more.  All in an hour, as it were, the man Tarboe--that dominant,
+resourceful figure--had come into wealth and power.
+
+After Junia read the substance of the will, she went springing up the
+mountain-side, as it were to work off her excitement by fatigue.  At the
+mountain-top she gazed over the River St. Lawrence with an eye blind to
+all except this terrible distortion of life.  Yet through her
+obfuscation, there ran admiration for Tarboe.  What a man he was!  He
+had captured John Grier as quickly and as securely as a night fisherman
+spears a sturgeon in the flare at the bow of the boat.  Tarboe's ability
+was as marked as John Grier's mad policy.  It was strange that Tarboe
+should have bewildered and bamboozled--if that word could be used--the
+old millowner.  It was as curious and thrilling as John Grier's
+fanaticism.
+
+Already the pinch of corruption had nipped his flesh; he was useless,
+motionless in his narrow house, and yet, unseen but powerful, his
+influence went on.  It shamed a wife and son; it blackened the doors
+of a home; it penalized a family.
+
+Indeed he had been a bad man, and yet she could not reconcile it all
+with a wonderful something in him, a boldness, a sense of humour, an
+everlasting energy, an electric power.  She had never seen anyone
+vitalize everything round him as John Grier had done.  He threw things
+from him like an exasperated giant; he drew things to him like an Angel
+of the Covenant.  To him life was less a problem than an experiment, and
+this last act, this nameless repudiation of the laws of family life, was
+like the sign of a chemist's activity.  As she stood on the mountain-top
+her breath suddenly came fast, and she caught her bosom with angry hands.
+
+"Carnac--poor Carnac!" she exclaimed.
+
+What would the world say?  There were those, perhaps, who thought Carnac
+almost a ne'er-do-well, but they were of the commercial world where John
+Grier had been supreme.
+
+At the same moment, Carnac in the garden of his old home beheld the river
+too and the great expanse of country, saw the grey light of evening on
+the distant hills, and listened to Fabian who condoled with him.  When
+Fabian had gone, Carnac sat down on a bench and thought over the whole
+thing.  Carnac had no quarrel with his fate.  When in the old home on the
+hill he had heard the will, it had surprised him, but it had not shocked
+him.  He had looked to be the discarded heir, and he knew it now without
+rebellion.  He had never tried to smooth the path to that financial
+security which his father could give.  Yet now that disaster had come,
+there was a glimmer of remorse, of revolt, because there was some one
+besides himself who might think he had thrown away his chances.  He did
+not know that over on the mountain-side, vituperating the memory of the
+dead man, Junia was angry only for Carnac's sake.
+
+With the black storm of sudden death roaring in his ears, he had a sense
+of freedom, almost of licence.  Nothing that had been his father's was
+now his own, or his mother's, except the land and house on which they
+were.  All the great business John Grier had built up was gone into the
+hands of the usurper, a young, bold, pestilent, powerful, vigorous man.
+It seemed suddenly horrible that the timber-yards and the woods and the
+offices, and the buildings of John Grier's commercial business were not
+under his own direction, or that of his mother, or brother.  They had
+ceased to be factors in the equation; they were 'non est' in the
+postmortem history of John Grier.  How immense a nerve the old man had to
+make such a will, which outraged every convention of social and family
+life; which was, in effect, a proclamation that his son Carnac had no
+place in John Grier's scheme of things, while John Grier's wife was
+rewarded like some faithful old servant.  Yet some newspapers had said he
+was a man of goodwill, and had appreciation of talent, adding, however,
+the doubtful suggestion that the appreciation stopped short of the
+prowess of his son Carnac in the field of Art.  It was evident John
+Grier's act was thought by the conventionalist to be a wicked blunder.
+
+As Carnac saw the world where there was not a single material thing that
+belonged to him, he had a sudden conviction that his life would run in
+other lines than those within which it had been drawn to the present
+time.  Looking over this wonderful prospect of the St. Lawrence, he had
+an insistent feeling that he ought to remain in the land where he was
+born, and give of whatever he was capable to its life.  It was all a
+strenuous problem.  For Carnac there was, duly or unduly, fairly or
+unfairly, a fate better than that of John Grier.  If he died suddenly,
+as his father had died, a handful of people would sorrow with excess of
+feeling, and the growing world of his patrons would lament his loss.
+No one really grieved for John Grier's departure, except--strange to say
+--Tarboe.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CARNAC'S FOLLY
+
+By Gilbert Parker
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+XVIII.    A GREAT DECISION
+XIX.      CARNAC BECOMES A CANDIDATE
+XX.       JUNIA AND TARBOE HEAR THE NEWS
+XXI.      THE SECRET MEETING
+XXII.     POINT TO POINT
+XXIII.    THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT
+XXIV.     THE BLUE PAPER
+XXV.      DENZIL TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME
+XXVI.     THE CHALLENGE
+XXVII.    EXIT
+XXVIII.   A WOMAN WRITES A LETTER
+XXIX.     CARNAC AND HIS MOTHER
+XXX.      TARBOE HAS A DREAM
+XXXI.     THIS WAY HOME
+XXXII.    'HALVES, PARDNER, HALVES'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+A GREAT DECISION
+
+Months went by.  In them Destiny made new drawings.  With his mother,
+Carnac went to paint at a place called Charlemont.  Tarboe pursued his
+work at the mills successfully; Junia saw nothing of Carnac, but she had
+a letter from him, and it might have been written by a man to his friend,
+yet with an undercurrent of sadness that troubled her.
+
+She might, perhaps, have yielded to the attentions of Tarboe, had not an
+appealing message come from her aunt, and at an hour's notice went West
+again on her mission of sick-service.
+
+Politically the Province of Quebec was in turmoil.  The time was drawing
+near when the Dominion Government must go to the polls, and in the most
+secluded cottage on the St. Lawrence, the virtues and defects of the
+administration were vital questions.  Voters knew as much of technical
+law-making as the average voter everywhere, but no more, and sometimes
+less.  Yet there was in the mind of the French-Canadian an intuition,
+which was as valuable as the deeper knowledge of a trained politician.
+The two great parties in the Province were led by Frenchmen.  The English
+people, however, were chiefly identified with the party opposed to Barode
+Barouche, the Secretary of State.
+
+As the agitation began in the late spring, Carnac became suddenly
+interested in everything political.
+
+He realized what John Grier had said concerning politics--that, given
+other characteristics, the making of laws meant success or failure for
+every profession or trade, for every interest in the country.  He had
+known a few politicians; though he had never yet met the most dominant
+figure in the Province--Barode Barouche, who had a singular fascination
+for him.  He seemed a man dominant and plausible, with a right-minded
+impulsiveness.  Things John Grier had said about Barouche rang in his
+ears.
+
+As the autumn drew near excitement increased.  Political meetings were
+being held everywhere.  There was one feature more common in Canada than
+in any other country; opposing candidates met on the same platform and
+fought their fight out in the hearing of those whom they were wooing.
+One day Carnac read in a newspaper that Barode Barouche was to speak at
+St. Annabel.  As that was not far from Charlemont he determined to hear
+Barouche for the first time.  He had for him a sympathy which, to
+himself, seemed a matter of temperament.
+
+"Mother," he said, "wouldn't you like to go and hear Barode Barouche at
+St. Annabel?  You know him--I mean personally?"
+
+"Yes, I knew him long ago," was the scarcely vocal reply.
+
+"He's a great, fine man, isn't he?  Wrong-headed, wrong-purposed, but a
+big fine fellow."
+
+"If a man is wrong-headed and wrong-purposed, it isn't easy for him to be
+fine, is it?"
+
+"That depends.  A man might want to save his country by making some good
+law, and be mistaken both as to the result of that law and the right
+methods in making it.  I'd like you to be with me when I hear him for the
+first time.  I've got a feeling he's one of the biggest men of our day.
+Of course he isn't perfect.  A man might want to save another's life, but
+he might choose the wrong way to do it, and that's wrongheaded; and
+perhaps he oughtn't to save the man's life, and that's wrong-purposed.
+There's no crime in either.  Let's go and hear Monsieur Barouche."
+
+He did not see the flush which suddenly filled her face; and, if he had,
+he would not have understood.  For her a long twenty-seven years rolled
+back to the day when she was a young neglected wife, full of life's
+vitalities, out on a junction of the river and the wild woods, with
+Barode Barouche's fishing-camp near by.  She shivered now as she thought
+of it.  It was all so strange, and heart-breaking.  For long years she
+had paid the price of her mistake.  She knew how eloquent Barode Barouche
+could be; she knew how his voice had all the ravishment of silver bells
+to the unsuspecting.  How well she knew him; how deeply she realized the
+darkness of his nature!  Once she had said to him:
+
+"Sometimes I think that for duty's sake you would cling like a leech."
+
+It was true.  For thirty long years he had been in one sense homeless,
+his wife having lost her reason three years after they were married.  In
+that time he had faithfully visited the place of her confinement every
+month of his life, sobered, chastened, at first hopeful, defiant.  At the
+bottom of his heart Barode Barouche did not want marital freedom.  He had
+loved the mad woman.  He remembered her in the glory of her youth, in the
+splendour of her beauty.  The insane asylum did not destroy his memory.
+
+Mrs. Grier remembered too, but in a different way.  Her relations with
+him had been one swift, absorbing fever--a mad dream, a moment of rash
+impulse, a yielding to the natural feeling which her own husband had
+aroused: the husband who now neglected her while Barode Barouche treated
+her so well, until a day when under his beguilement a stormy impulse
+gave--Carnac.  Then the end came, instant and final; she bolted, barred
+and locked the door against Barode and he had made little effort to open
+it.  So they had parted, and had never clasped hands or kissed again.  To
+him she was a sin of which he never repented.  He had watched the growth
+and development of Carnac with a sharp sympathy.  He was not a good man;
+but in him were seeds of goodness.  To her he was the lash searing her
+flesh, day in day out, year in year out, which kept her sacred to her
+home.  For her children's sake she did not tell her husband, and she had
+emptied out her heart over Carnac with overwhelming fondness.
+
+"Yes, I'll go, Carnac," she said at last, for it seemed the easier way.
+"I haven't been to a political meeting for many years."
+
+"That's right.  I like your being with me."
+
+The meeting was held in what had been a skating-rink and drill-hall.  On
+the platform in the centre was the chairman, with Barode Barouche on his
+right.  There was some preliminary speech-making from the chairman.  A
+resolution was moved supporting Barouche, his party and policy, and there
+were little explosions of merriment at strokes of unconscious humour made
+by the speakers; and especially by one old farmer who made his jokes on
+the spot, and who now tried to embalm Barouche with praise.  He drew
+attention to Barouche's leonine head and beard, to his alert eyes and
+quizzical face, and said he was as strong in the field of legislation as
+he was in body and mind.  Carnac noticed that Barouche listened good-
+naturedly, and now and then cocked his head and looked up at the ceiling
+as though to find something there.
+
+There was a curious familiarity in the action of the head which struck
+Carnac.  He and his mother were seated about five rows back from the
+front row on the edge of the aisle.  As the meeting progressed,
+Barouche's eyes wandered slowly over the faces of his audience.
+Presently he saw Carnac and his mother.  Mrs. Grier was conscious of a
+shock upon the mind of Barouche.  She saw his eyes go misty with feeling.
+For him the world was suddenly shut out, and he only saw the woods of a
+late summer's afternoon, a lonely tent--and a woman.  A flush crept up
+his face.  Then he made a spasmodic gesture of the hand, outward, which
+again Carnac recognized as familiar.  It was the kind of thing he did
+himself.
+
+So absorbed was Barode Barouche that he only mechanically heard the
+chairman announce himself, but when he got to his feet his full senses
+came back.  The sight of the woman to whom he had been so much, and who
+had been so much to him for one short month, magnetized him; the face of
+the boy, so like his own as he remembered it thirty years ago, stirred
+his veins.  There before him was his own one unacknowledged child--the
+only child ever born to him.  His heart throbbed.  Then he began to
+speak.  Never in all his life had he spoken as he did this day.  It was
+only a rural audience; there was not much intelligence in it; but it had
+a character all its own.  It was alive to its own interests, chiefly of
+agriculture and the river.  It was composed of both parties, and he could
+stimulate his own side, and, perhaps, win the other.
+
+Thus it was that, with the blood pounding through his veins, the inspired
+sensualist began his speech.  It was his duty to map out a policy for the
+future; to give the people an idea of what his party meant to do; to
+guide, to inspire, to inflame.
+
+As Carnac listened he kept framing the words not yet issued, but which
+did issue from Barouche's mouth; his quick intelligence correctly
+imagined the line Barouche would take; again and again Barouche made
+a gesture, or tossed his head, or swung upon his feet to right and left
+in harmony with Carnac's own mind.  Carnac would say to himself: "Why,
+that's what I'd have done--that's what I'd have said, if I had his
+policy."  More than once, in some inspired moment of the speech, he
+caught his mother's hand, and he did not notice that her hand trembled.
+
+But as for one of Barouche's chapter of policy Carnac almost sprang to
+his feet in protest when Barouche declared it.  To Carnac it seemed fatal
+to French Canada, though it was expounded with a taking air; yet as he
+himself had said it was "wrong-headed and wrong-purposed."
+
+When the speech had finished to great cheering, Carnac suddenly turned to
+his mother:
+
+"He's on the wrong track.  I know the policy to down his.  He's got no
+opponent.  I'm going to stand against him at the polls."
+
+She clutched his arm.  "Carnac--Carnac!  You don't know what you're
+doing."
+
+"Well, I will pretty quick," he replied stoutly.  "I'm out after him, if
+they'll have me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+CARNAC BECOMES A CANDIDATE
+
+That night Carnac mapped out his course, carefully framed the policy to
+offset that of Barode Barouche, and wrote a letter to the Chairman of
+the Opposition at Montreal offering to stand, and putting forward an
+ingenious policy.  He asked also for an interview; and the interview was
+granted by telegram--almost to his surprise.  He was aware, however, of
+the discontent among the English members of the Opposition, and of the
+wish of the French members to find a good compromise.
+
+He had a hope that his singular position--the notoriety which his
+father's death and his own financial disfranchisement had caused--would
+be a fine card in his favour.  He was not mistaken.  His letter arrived
+at Headquarters when there were difficulties concerning three candidates
+who were pressing their claims.  Carnac Grier, the disinherited son of
+the great lumber-king, who had fame as an artist, spoke French as though
+it were his native tongue, was an element of sensation which, if adroitly
+used, could be of great service.  It might even defeat Barode Barouche.
+In the first place, Carnac was young, good-looking, personable, and
+taking in his manner.  Barouche was old, experienced, with hosts of
+enemies and many friends, but with injurious egotism.  An interview was,
+therefore, arranged at Headquarters.
+
+On the morning of the day it took place, Carnac's anguished mother went
+with him to the little railway station of Charlemont.  She had slept
+little the night before; her mind was in an eddy of emotions.  It seemed
+dreadful that Carnac should fight his own father, repeating what Fabian
+had done in another way.  Yet at the bottom of her heart there was a
+secret joy.  Some native revolt in her had joy in the thought that the
+son might extort a price for her long sorrow and his unknown disgrace.
+
+As she had listened to Barouche at the meeting, she realized how sincere
+yet insincere he was; how gifted and yet how ungracious was his mind.
+Her youth was over; long pain and regret had chastened her.  She was as
+lonely a creature as ever the world knew; violence was no part of her
+equipment; and yet terrible memories made her assent to this new phase of
+Carnac's life.  She wondered what Barouche would think.  There was some
+ancient touch of war in her which made her rejoice that after long years
+the hammer should strike.
+
+Somehow the thing's tremendous possibilities thrilled her.  Carnac had
+always been a politician--always.  She remembered how, when he was a boy,
+he had argued with John Grier on national matters, laid down the law with
+the assurance of an undergraduate, and invented theories impossible of
+public acceptance.  Yet in every stand he had taken, there had been
+thought, logic and reasoning, wrongly premised, but always based on
+principles.  On paper he was generally right; in practice, generally
+wrong.  His buoyant devotion to an idea was an inspiration and a tonic.
+The curious thing was that, while still this political matter was hanging
+fire, he painted with elation.
+
+His mother knew he did not see the thousand little things which made
+public life so wearying; that he only realized the big elements of
+national policy.  She understood how those big things would inspire the
+artist in him.  For, after all, there was the spirit of Art in framing a
+great policy which would benefit millions in the present and countless
+millions in the future.  So, at the railway station, as they waited for
+the train, with an agitation outwardly controlled, she said:
+
+"The men who have fought before, will want to stand, so don't be
+surprised if--"
+
+"If they reject me, mother?" interrupted Carnac.  No, I shan't be
+surprised, but I feel in my bones that I'm going to fight Barode
+Barouche into the last corner of the corral."
+
+"Don't be too sure of that, my son.  Won't the thing that prevents your
+marrying Junia be a danger in this, if you go on?"
+
+Sullen tragedy came into his face, his lips set.  The sudden paleness of
+his cheek, however, was lost in a smile.
+
+"Yes, I've thought of that; but if it has to come, better it should come
+now than later.  If the truth must be told, I'll tell it--yes, I'll tell
+it!"
+
+"Be bold, but not reckless, Carnac," his mother urged.
+
+Just then the whistling train approached.  She longed to put a hand out
+and hold him back, and yet she ached to let him go.  Yet as Carnac
+mounted the steps of the car, a cry went out from her heart: "My son,
+stay with me here--don't go."  That was only in her heart, however; with
+her lips she said: "Good luck!  God bless you, Carnac!" and then the
+train rolled away, leaving her alone in the bright, bountiful morning.
+
+Before the day was done, Headquarters had accepted Carnac, in part, as
+the solution of their own difficult problem.  The three applicants for
+the post each hated the other; but all, before the day was over, agreed
+to Carnac as an effective opponent of Barouche.
+
+One thing seemed clear--Carnac's policy had elements of seduction
+appealing to the selfishness of all sections, and he had an eloquence
+which would make Barouche uneasy.  That eloquence was shown in a speech
+Carnac made in the late evening to the assembled executive.  He spoke for
+only a quarter of an hour, but it was long enough to leave upon all who
+heard him an impression of power, pertinacity, picturesqueness and
+appeal.  He might make mistakes, but he had qualities which would ride
+over errors with success.
+
+"I'm not French," he said at last in his speech, "but I used to think
+and write in French as though I'd been born in Normandy.  I'm English
+by birth and breeding, but I've always gone to French schools and to
+a French University, and I know what New France means.  I stand to my
+English origin, but I want to see the French develop here as they've
+developed in France, alive to all new ideas, dreaming good dreams.
+I believe that Frenchmen in Canada can, and should, be an inspiration
+to the whole population.  Their great qualities should be the fibre in
+the body of public opinion.  I will not pander to the French; I will not
+be the slave of the English; I will be free, and I hope I shall be
+successful at the polls."
+
+This was a small part of the speech which caused much enthusiasm, and was
+the beginning of a movement, powerful, and as time went on, impetuous.
+
+He went to bed with the blood of battle throbbing in his veins.  In the
+morning he had a reasonable joy in seeing the headlines of his
+candidature in the papers.
+
+At first he was almost appalled, for never since life began had his
+personality been so displayed.  It seemed absurd that before he had
+struck a blow he should be advertised like a general in the field.
+Yet common sense told him that in standing against Barouche, he became
+important in the eyes of those affected by Barouche's policy.  He had had
+luck, and it was for him to justify that luck.  Could he do it?  His
+first thought, however, as his eyes fell on the headlines--he flushed
+with elation so that he scarcely saw--was for the thing itself.  Before
+him there flashed a face, however, which at once sobered his exaltation.
+It was the face of Junia.
+
+"I wonder what she will think," he said to himself, with a little
+perplexity.
+
+He knew in his heart of hearts she would not think it incongruous that
+he, an artist, should become a politician.  Good laws served to make life
+beautiful, good pictures ministered to beauty; good laws helped to tell
+the story of human development; good sculpture strengthened the soul;
+good laws made life's conveniences greater, enlarged activity, lessened
+the friction of things not yet adjusted; good laws taught their framers
+how to balance things, how to make new principles apply without
+disturbing old rights; good pictures increased the well-balanced harmony
+of the mind of the people.  Junia would understand these things.  As he
+sat at his breakfast, with the newspaper spread against the teapot and
+the milk-pitcher, he felt satisfied he had done the bold and right, if
+incomprehensible, thing.
+
+But in another hotel, at another breakfast, another man read of Carnac's
+candidature with sickening surprise.  It was Barode Barouche.
+
+So, after twenty-seven long years, this was to be the issue!  His own
+son, whom he had never known, was to fight him at the polls!  Somehow,
+the day when he had seen Carnac and his mother at the political meeting
+had given him new emotions.  His wife, to whom he had been so faithful in
+one sense since she had passed into the asylum, had died, and with her
+going, a new field of life seemed to open up to him.  She had died
+almost on the same day as John Grier.  She had been buried secludedly,
+piteously, and he had gone back to his office with the thought that life
+had become a preposterous freedom.
+
+So it was that, on the day when he spoke at the political meeting, his
+life's tragedy became a hammer beating every nerve into emotion.  He was
+like one shipwrecked who strikes out with a swimmer's will to reach his
+goal.  All at once, on the platform, as he spoke, when his eyes saw the
+faces of Carnac and his mother the catastrophe stunned him like a huge
+engine of war.  There had come to him at last a sense of duty where Alma
+Grier was concerned.  She was nearly fifty years of age, and he was
+fifty-nine; she was a widow with this world's goods; she had been to him
+how near and dear! for a brief hour, and then--no more.  He knew the boy
+was his son, because he saw his own face, as it had been in his youth,
+though his mother's look was also there-transforming, illumining.
+
+He had a pang as he saw the two at the close of his meeting filtering out
+into the great retort of the world.  Then it was that he had the impulse
+to go to the woman's home, express his sorrow, and in some small sense
+wipe out his wrong by offering her marriage.  He had not gone.
+
+He knew of Carnac's success in the world of Art; and how he had alienated
+his reputed father by an independence revolting to a slave of convention.
+He had even bought, not from Carnac, but from a dealer, two of Carnac's
+pictures and a statue of a riverman.  Somehow the years had had their way
+with him.  He had at long last realized that material things were not the
+great things of life, and that imagination, however productive, should be
+guided by uprightness of soul.
+
+One thing was sure, the boy had never been told who his father was.  That
+Barouche knew.  He had the useful gift of reading the minds of people in
+their faces.  From Carnac's face, from Carnac's mother's face, had come
+to him the real story.  He knew that Alma Grier had sinned only once and
+with him.  In the first days after that ill-starred month, he had gone to
+her, only to be repelled as a woman can repel whose soul has been
+shocked, whose self-respect has been shamed.
+
+It had been as though she thrust out arms of infinite length to push him
+away, such had been the storm of her remorse, such the revulsion against
+herself and him.  So they had fallen apart, and he had seen his boy grow
+up independent, original, wilful, capable--a genius.  He read the
+newspaper reports of what had happened the day before with senses greatly
+alive.
+
+After all, politics was unlike everything else.  It was a profession
+recruited from all others.  The making of laws was done by all kinds of
+men.  One of the wisest advisers in river-law he had ever known was a
+priest; one of the best friends of the legislation of the medical
+profession was a woman; one of the bravest Ministers who had ever
+quarrelled with and conquered his colleagues had been an insurance agent;
+one of the sanest authorities on maritime law had been a man with a
+greater pride in his verses than in his practical capacity; and here was
+Carnac, who had painted pictures and made statues, plunging into politics
+with a policy as ingenious as his own, and as capable of logical
+presentation.  This boy, who was bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh,
+meant to fight him.  He threw back his head and laughed.  His boy, his
+son, meant to fight him, did he?  Well, so be it!  He got to his feet,
+and walked up and down the room.
+
+"God, what an issue this!" he said.  "It would be terrific, if he won.
+To wipe me out of the life where I have flourished--what a triumph for
+him!  And he would not know how great the triumph would be.  She has not
+told him.  Yet she will urge him on.  Suppose it was she put the idea
+into his head!"
+
+Then he threw back his head, shaking the long brown hair, browner than
+Carnac's, from his forehead.  "Suppose she did this thing--she who was
+all mine for one brief moment!  Suppose she--"
+
+Every nerve tingled; every drop of blood beat hard against his walls of
+flesh; his every vicious element sprang into life.
+
+"But no--but no, she would not do it.  She would not teach her son to
+destroy his own father.  But something must have told him to come and
+listen to me, to challenge me in his own mind, and then--then this
+thing!"
+
+He stared at the paper, leaning over the table, as though it were a
+document of terror.
+
+"I must go on: I must uphold the policy for which I've got the assent of
+the Government."  Suddenly his hands clenched.  "I will beat him.  He
+shall not bring me to the dust.  I gave him life, and he shall not take
+my life from me.  He's at the beginning; I'm going towards the end.
+I wronged his mother--yes, I wronged him too!  I wronged them both, but
+he does not know he's wronged.  He'll live his own life;
+he has lived it--"
+
+There came a tap at the door.  Presently it opened and a servant came in.
+He had in his hand a half-dozen telegrams.
+
+"All about the man that's going to fight you, I expect, m'sieu'," said
+the servant as he handed the telegrams.
+
+Barode Barouche did not reply, but nodded a little scornfully.
+
+"A woman has called," continued the servant.  "She wants to see you,
+m'sieu'.  It's very important, she says."
+
+Barouche shook his head in negation.  "No, Gaspard."
+
+"It ain't one of the usual kind, I think, m'sieu'," protested Gaspard.
+"It's about the election.  It's got something to do with that--" he
+pointed to the newspaper propped against the teapot.
+
+"It's about that, is it?  Well, what about that?"  He eyed the servant as
+though to see whether the woman had given any information.
+
+"I don't know.  She didn't tell me.  She's got a mind of her own.  She's
+even handsome, and she's well-dressed.  All she said was: 'Tell m'sieu' I
+want to see him.  It's about the election-about Mr. Grier.'"
+
+Barode Barouche's heart stopped.  Something about Carnac Grier--something
+about the election--and a woman!  He kept a hand on himself.  It must not
+be seen that he was in any way moved.
+
+"Is she English?"
+
+"She's French, m'sieu'."
+
+"You think I ought to see her, Gaspard?" said Barouche.
+
+"Sure," was the confident reply.  "I guess she's out against whoever's
+against you."
+
+"You never saw her before."
+
+"Not to my sense."
+
+"But I haven't finished my breakfast."
+
+"Well, if it's anything important that'll help you, m'sieu'.  It's like
+whittling.  If you can do things with your hands while you're talking and
+thinking, it's a great help.  You go on eating.  I'll show her up!"
+
+Barouche smiled maliciously.  "Well, show her up, Gaspard."
+
+The servant laughed.  "Perhaps she'll show herself up after I show her
+in," he said, and he went out hastily.
+
+Presently the door opened again, and Gaspard stepped inside.
+
+"A lady to see you, m'sieu'," he said.
+
+Barouche rose from the table, but he did not hold out his hand.  The
+woman was young, good looking, she seemed intelligent.  There was also
+a latent cruelty in her face which only a student of human nature could
+have seen quickly.  She was a woman with a grievance--that was sure.
+He knew the passionate excitement, fairly well controlled; he saw her
+bitterness at a glance.  He motioned her to a chair.
+
+"It's an early call," he said with a smile.  Smiling was one of his
+serviceable assets; it was said no man could so palaver the public with
+his cheerful goodnature.
+
+"Yes, it's an early call," she replied, "but I wish not to wait till you
+go to your office.  I wanted you to know something.  It has to do with
+Mr. Carnac Grier."
+
+"Oh, that--eh!"
+
+"It's something you've got to know.  If I give you the sure means to win
+your election, it would be worth while--eh?"
+
+The beating of Barouche's heart was hard, but nothing showed in his face.
+There he had control.
+
+"I like people who know their own minds," he said, "but I don't believe
+anything till I study what I hear.  Is it something to injure Mr. Grier?"
+
+"If a married man went about as a single man and stood up for Parliament
+against you, don't you think you could spoil him?"
+
+For a moment Barouche was silent.  Here was an impeachment of his own
+son, but this son was out to bring his own father to the ground.  There
+were two ways to look at it.  There was the son's point of view, and
+there was his own.  If he loved his son he ought to know the thing that
+threatened him; if he hated his son he ought to know.  So, after a
+moment's study of the face with the fiery eyes and a complexion like
+roses touched with frost, he said slowly:
+
+"Well, have I the honour of addressing Carnac Grier's wife?"
+
+Barouche had had many rewards in his life, but the sweetest reward of all
+was now his own.  As events proved, he had taken a course which, if he
+cared for his son, was for that son's well-being, and if he cared for
+himself most, was essential to his own well-being.
+
+Relief crossed the woman's face.  "I'll tell you everything," she said.
+
+Then Luzanne told her story, avoiding the fact that Carnac had been
+tricked into the marriage.  At last she said: "Now I've come here to
+make him acknowledge me.  He's ruined my life, broken my hopes, and--"
+
+"Broken your hopes!" interrupted Barode Barouche.  "How is that?"
+
+"I might have married some one else.  I could have married some one
+else."
+
+"Well, why don't you?  There's the Divorce Court.  What's to prevent it?"
+
+"You ask me that--you a Frenchman and a Roman Catholic!  I'm French.
+I was born in Paris."
+
+"When will you let me see your papers?"
+
+"When do you want to see them?"
+
+"To-day-if possible to-day," he answered.  Then he held her eyes.  "To
+whom else here have you told this story?"
+
+"No one--no one.  I only came last night, and when I took up the paper
+this morning, I saw.  Then I found out where you lived, and here I am,
+bien sur.  I'm here under my maiden name, Ma'm'selle Luzanne Larue."
+
+"That's right.  That's right.  Now, until we meet again, don't speak of
+this to anyone.  Will you give me your word?"
+
+"Absolutely," she said, and there was revenge and passion in her eyes.
+Suddenly a strange expression crept over her face.  She was puzzled.
+
+"There's something of him about you," she said, and her forehead
+gathered.  "There's some look!  Well, there it is, but it's something--
+I don't know what."
+
+A moment later she was gone.  As the door closed, he stretched his hands
+above his head.
+
+"Nom de Dieu, what a situation!" he remarked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+JUNIA AND TARBOE HEAR THE NEWS
+
+To most people Carnac's candidature was a surprise; to some it was a
+bewilderment, and to one or two it was a shock.  To the second class
+belonged Fabian Grier and his wife; to the third class belonged Luke
+Tarboe.  Only one person seemed to understand it--by intuition: Junia.
+
+Somehow, nothing Carnac did changed Junia's views of him, or surprised
+her, though he made her indignant often enough.  To her mind, however, in
+the big things, his actions always had reasonableness.  She had never
+felt his artist-life was to be the only note of his career.  When,
+therefore, in the West she read a telegram in a newspaper announcing his
+candidature, she guessed the suddenness of his decision.  When she read
+it, she spread the paper on the table, smoothed it as though it were a
+beautiful piece of linen, then she stretched out her hands in happy
+benediction.  Like most of her sex, she loved the thrill of warfare.
+There flashed the feeling, however, that it would be finer sport if
+Carnac and Tarboe were to be at war, instead of Carnac and Barouche.  It
+was curious she never thought of Carnac but the other man came throbbing
+into sight--the millionaire, for he was that now.
+
+In one way, this last move of Carnac's had the elements of a master-
+stroke.  She knew how strange it would seem to the rest of the world, yet
+it did not seem strange to her.  No man she had ever seen had been so at
+home in the world of men, and also at home in the secluded field of the
+chisel and the brush as Carnac.
+
+She took the newspaper over to her aunt, holding it up.  The big
+headlines showed like semaphores on the page.  As the graceful figure of
+Junia drew to her aunt--her slim feet, in the brown, well-polished boots,
+the long, full neck, and then the chin, Grecian, shapely and firm, the
+straight, sensitive nose, the wonderful eyes under the well-cut, broad
+forehead, with the brown hair, covering it like a canopy--the old lady
+reached out and wound her arms round the lissome figure.  Situated so,
+she read the telegram, and then the old arms gripped her tighter.
+
+Presently, the whistle of a train sounded.  The aunt stretched out an
+approving finger to the sound.  She realized that the figure round which
+her arms hung trembled, for it was the "through" daily train for
+Montreal.
+
+"I'm going back at once, aunty," Junia said.
+
+                    ..........................
+
+"Well, I'm jiggered!"
+
+These were Tarboe's words when Carnac's candidature came first to him in
+the press.
+
+"He's 'broke' out in a new place," he added.
+
+Tarboe loved the spectacular, and this was indeed spectacular.  Yet he
+had not the mental vision of Junia who saw how close, in one intimate
+sense, was the relation between the artist life and the political life.
+To him it was a gigantic break from a green pasture into a red field of
+war.  To her, it was a resolution which, in anyone else's life, would
+have seemed abnormal; in Carnac's life it had naturalness.
+
+Tarboe had been for a few months only the reputed owner of the great
+business, and he had paid a big price for his headship in the weighty
+responsibility, the strain of control; but it had got into his blood,
+and he felt life would not be easy without it now.
+
+Besides, there was Junia.  To him she was the one being in the world
+worth struggling for; the bird to be caught on the wing, or coaxed into
+the nest, or snared into the net; and two of the three things he had
+tried without avail.  The third--the snaring?  He would not stop at that,
+if it would bring him what he wanted.  How to snare her!  He surveyed
+himself in the mirror.
+
+"A great hulking figure like that!" he said in disapproval.  "All bone
+and muscle and flesh and physical show!  It wouldn't weigh with her.
+She's too fine.  It isn't the animal in a man she likes.  It's what he
+can do, and what he is, and where he's going."
+
+Then he thought of Carnac's new outburst, and his veins ran cold.
+"She'll like that--but yes, she'll like that: and if he succeeds she'll
+think he's great.  Well, she'd be right.  He'll beat Barouche.  He's
+young and brave, careless and daring.  Now where am I in this fight?
+I belong to Barouche's party and my vote ought to go for him."
+
+For some minutes he sat in profound thought.  What part should he play?
+He liked Carnac, he owed him a debt which he could never repay.  Carnac
+had saved him from killing Denzil.  If that had happened, he himself
+might have gone to the gallows.
+
+He decided.  Sitting down, he wrote Carnac the following letter:
+
+     DEAR CARNAC GRIER,
+
+     I see you're beginning a new work.  You now belong to a party that I
+     am opposed to, but that doesn't stop me offering you support.  It's
+     not your general policy, but it is you, the son of your father, that
+     I mean to work for.  If you want financial help for your campaign--
+     or after it is over--come and get it here--ten thousand or more if
+     you wish.  Your father, if he knew--and perhaps he does know--would
+     be pleased that you, who could not be a man of business in his
+     world, are become a man of business in the bigger world of law-
+     making.  You may be right or wrong in that policy, but that don't
+     weigh with me.  You've taken on as big a job as ever your father
+     did.  What's the use of working if you don't try to do the big thing
+     that means a lot to people outside yourself!  If you make new good
+     laws, if you do something for the world that's wonderful, it's as
+     much as your father did, or, if he was alive, could do now.
+     Whatever there is here is yours to use.  When you come back here to
+     play your part, you'll make it a success--the whole blessed thing.
+     I don't wish you were here now, except that it's yours--all of it--
+     but I wish you to beat Barode Barouche.
+
+                                   Yours to the knife,
+
+                                                  LUKE TARBOE.
+
+
+He read the letter through, and coming to the words, "When you come back
+here to play your part, you'll make it a success--the whole blessed
+thing," he paused, reflecting .  .  .  He wondered what Carnac would
+think the words meant, and he felt it was bold, and, maybe, dangerous
+play; but it was not more dangerous than facts he had dealt with often
+in the last two years.  He would let it stand, that phrase of the hidden
+meaning.  He did not post the letter yet.
+
+Four days later he put on his wide-brimmed panama hat and went out into
+the street leading to the centre of the city.  There was trouble in the
+river reaches between his men and those of Belloc-Grier, and he was
+keeping an appointment with Belloc at Fabian Grier's office, where
+several such meetings had taken place.
+
+He had not gone far, however, when he saw a sprightly figure in light-
+brown linen cutting into his street from a cross-road.  He had not seen
+that figure for months-scarcely since John Grier's death, and his heart
+thumped in his breast.  It was Junia.  How would she greet him?
+
+A moment later he met her.  Raising his hat, he said: "Back to the
+firing-line, Miss Shale!  It'll make a big difference to every one
+concerned."
+
+"Are you then concerned?" she asked, with a faint smile.
+
+"One of the most concerned," he answered with a smile not so composed as
+her own.  "It's the honour of the name that's at stake."
+
+"You want to ruin Mr. Grier's chances in the fight?"
+
+"I didn't say that.  I said, 'the honour of the name,' and the name of my
+firm is 'Grier's Company of Lumbermen.'  So I'm in it with all my might,
+and here's a letter--I haven't posted it yet--saying to Carnac Grier
+where I stand.  Will you read it?  There's no reason why you shouldn't."
+He tore open the envelope and took the letter out.
+
+Junia took it, after hesitation, and read it till she came to the
+sentence about Carnac returning to the business.  She looked up,
+startled.
+
+"What does that mean?" she asked, pointing to the elusive sentence.
+
+"He might want to come into the business some day, and I'll give him his
+chance.  Nothing more than that."
+
+"Nothing more than that!" she said cynically.  "It's bravely said, but
+how can he be a partner if he can't buy the shares?"
+
+"That's a matter to be thought out," he answered with a queer twist to
+his mouth.
+
+"I see you've offered to help him with cash for the election," she said,
+handing back the letter.
+
+"I felt it had to be done.  Politics are expensive they sap the purse.
+That's why."
+
+"You never thought of giving him an income which would compensate a
+little for what his father failed to do for him?"
+
+There was asperity in her tone.
+
+"He wouldn't take from me what his father didn't give him."  Suddenly an
+idea seized him.  "Look here," he said, "you're a friend of the Griers,
+why don't you help keep things straight between the two concerns?  You
+could do it.  You have the art of getting your own way.  I've noticed
+that."
+
+"So you'd like me to persuade Fabian Grier to influence Belloc, because
+I'd make things easy for you!" she said briskly.  "Do you forget I've
+known Fabian since I was a baby, that my sister is his wife, and that his
+interests are near to me?"
+
+He did not knuckle down.  "I think it would be helping Fabian's
+interests.  Belloc and Fabian Grier are generally in the wrong, and to
+keep them right would be good business-policy.  When I've trouble with
+Belloc's firm it's because they act like dogs in the manger.  They seem
+to hate me to live."
+
+She laughed--a buoyant, scornful laugh.  "So all the fault is in Belloc
+and Fabian, is it?"  She was impressed enormously by his sangfroid and
+will to rule the roost.  "I think you're clever, and that you've got
+plenty of horse-sense, as they say in the West, but you'll be beaten in
+the end.  How does it feel"--she asked it with provoking candour--"to be
+the boss of big things?"
+
+"I know I'm always settling troubles my business foes make for me.  I
+have to settle one of them now, and I'm glad I've met you, for you can
+help me.  I want some new river-rules made.  If Belloc and Grier'll agree
+to them, we'll do away with this constant trouble between our gangs."
+
+"And you'd like me to help you?"
+
+He smiled a big riverman's smile down at her, full of good-humour and
+audacity.
+
+"If you could make it clear to Fabian that all I'm after is peace on the
+river, it'd do a lot of good."
+
+"Well, do you know," she said demurely, "I don't think I'll take a hand
+in this game, chiefly because--" she paused.
+
+"Yes: chiefly because--"
+
+"Because you'll get your own way without help.  You get everything you
+want," she added with a little savage comment.
+
+A flood of feeling came into his eyes, his head jerked like that of a
+bull-moose.  "No, I don't get everything I want.  The thing I want most
+in the world doesn't come to me."  His voice grew emotional.  She knew
+what he was trying to say, and as the idea was not new she kept
+composure.  "I'm not as lucky as you think me," he added.
+
+"You're pretty lucky.  You've done it all as easy as clasping your
+fingers.  If I had your luck--!" she paused.
+
+"I don't know about that, but if I could reach out and touch you at any
+time, as it were, I think it'd bring me permanent good luck.  You'll find
+out one day that my luck is only a bubble the prick of a pin'll destroy.
+I don't misunderstand it.  I've been left John Grier's business by Grier
+himself, and he's got a son that ought to have it, and maybe will have
+it, when the time is ripe."
+
+Suddenly an angry hand flashed out towards him.  "When the time is ripe!
+Does that mean, when you've made all you want, you'll give up to Carnac
+what isn't yours but his?  Why don't you do it now?"
+
+"Well, because, in the first place, I like my job and he doesn't want it;
+in the second place, I promised his father I'd run the business as he
+wished it run; and in the third place, Carnac wouldn't know how to use
+the income the business brings."
+
+She laughed in a mocking, challenging way.  "Was there ever a man didn't
+know how to use an income no matter how big it was!  You're talking
+enigmas, and I think we'd better say good-bye.  Your way to the Belloc
+offices is down that street."  She pointed.
+
+"And you won't help me?  You won't say a word to Fabian?"
+
+She shrugged a shoulder.  "If I were a man like you, who's so big, so
+lucky, and so dominant, I wouldn't ask a woman to help me.  I'd do the
+job myself.  I'd keep faith with my reputation.  But there's one nice
+thing about you: you're going to help Carnac to beat Barode Barouche.
+You've made a gallant offer.  If you'd gone against him, if you'd played
+Barouche's game, I--"
+
+The indignation which came to her face suddenly fled, and she said:
+"Honestly, I'd never speak to you again, and I always keep my word.
+Carnac'll see it through.  He's a man of mark, Mr. Tarboe, and he'll be
+Prime Minister of the whole country one day.  I don't think you'll like
+it."
+
+"You hit hard, but if I hadn't taken the business, Carnac Grier wouldn't
+have got it.  If it hadn't been me, it would have been some one else."
+
+"Well, why don't you live like a rich man and not like a foreman?"
+
+"I've been too busy to change my mode of living.  I only want enough to
+eat and drink and wear, and that's not costly."  Suddenly an idea came to
+him.  "Now, if that business had been left to you, you'd be building a
+stone house somewhere; and you'd have horses and carriages, and lots of
+servants, and you'd swing along like a pretty coloured bird in the
+springtime, wouldn't you?"
+
+"If I had wealth, I'd make it my servant.  I'd give it its chance; but as
+I haven't got it, I live as I do--poor and unknown."
+
+"Not unknown.  See, you could control what belonged to John Grier, if you
+would.  I need some one to show me how to spend the money coming from the
+business.  What is wealth unless you buy things that give pleasure to
+life?  Do you know--"
+
+He got no further.  "I don't know anything you're trying to tell me,
+and anyhow this is not the place--" With that she hastened from him up
+the street.  Tarboe had a pang, and yet her very last words gave him
+hope.  "I may be a bit sharp in business," he said to himself, "but I
+certainly am a fool in matters of the heart.  Yet what she said at last
+had something in it for me.  Every woman has an idea where a man ought
+to make love to her, and this open road certainly ain't the place.  If
+Carnac wins this game with Barouche I don't know where I'll be with her-
+maybe I'm a fool to help him."  He turned the letter over and over in his
+hand.  "No, I'm not.  I ought to do it, and I will."
+
+Then he fell to brooding.  He remembered about the second hidden will.
+There came upon him a wild wish to destroy it.  He loved controlling John
+Grier's business.  Never had anything absorbed him so.  Life seemed a new
+thing.  The idea of disappearing from the place where, with a stroke of
+his fingers, he moved five thousand men, or swept a forest into the great
+river, or touched a bell which set going a saw-mill with its many cross-
+cut saws, or filled a ship to take the pine, cedar, maple, ash or elm
+boards to Europe, or to the United States, was terrible to him.  He loved
+the smell of the fresh-cut wood.  The odour of the sawdust as he passed
+through a mill was sweeter than a million bunches of violets.  Many a
+time he had caught up a handful of the damp dust and smelt it, as an
+expert gardener would crumble the fallen flowers of a fruittree and sniff
+the sweet perfume.  To be master of one of the greatest enterprises of
+the New World for three years, and then to disappear!  He felt he could
+not do it.
+
+His feelings shook his big frame.  The love of a woman troubled his
+spirit.  Suppose the will were declared and the girl was still free,
+what would she do?
+
+As he set foot in the office of the firm of Belloc, however, he steeled
+himself to composure.
+
+His task well accomplished, he went back to his own office, and spent
+the day like a racehorse under the lash, restive, defiant, and reckless.
+When night and the shadows came, he sat alone in his office with drawn
+blinds, brooding, wondering.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE SECRET MEETING
+
+As election affairs progressed, Mrs. Grier kept withdrawn from public
+ways.  She did not seek supporters for her son.  As the weeks went on,
+the strain became intense.  Her eyes were aflame with excitement, but she
+grew thinner, until at last she was like a ghost haunting familiar
+scenes.  Once, and once only, did she have touch with Barode Barouche
+since the agitation began.  This was how it happened:
+
+Carnac was at Ottawa, and she was alone, in the late evening.  As she sat
+sewing, she heard a knock at the front door.  Her heart stood still.  It
+was a knock she had not heard for over a quarter of a century, but it had
+an unforgettable touch.  She waited a moment, her face pale, her eyes
+shining with tortured memory.  She waited for the servant to answer the
+knock, but presently she realized that the servant probably had not
+heard.  Laying down her work, she passed into the front hall.  There for
+an instant she paused, then opened the door.
+
+It was Barode Barouche.  Then the memory of a summer like a terrible
+dream shook her.  She trembled.  Some old quiver of the dead days swept
+through her.  How distant and how--bad it all was!  For one instant the
+old thrill repeated itself and then was gone--for ever.
+
+"What is it you wish here?" she asked.
+
+"Will you not shut the door?" he responded, for her fingers were on the
+handle.  "I cannot speak with the night looking in.  Won't you ask me to
+your sitting-room?  I'm not a robber or a rogue."
+
+Slowly she closed the door.  Then she turned, and, in the dim light, she
+said:
+
+"But you are both a robber and a rogue."
+
+He did not answer until they had entered the sittin-groom.
+
+"I gave you that which is out against me now.  Is he not brilliant,
+capable and courageous?"
+
+There was in her face a stern duty.
+
+"It was Fate, monsieur.  When he and I went to your political meeting at
+Charlemont it had no purpose.  No blush came to his cheek, because he did
+not know who his father is.  No one in the world knows--no one except
+myself, that must suffer to the end.  Your speech roused in him the
+native public sense, the ancient fire of the people from whom he did not
+know he came.  His origin has been his bane from the start.  He did not
+know why the man he thought his father seemed almost a stranger to him.
+He did not understand, and so they fell apart.  Yet John Grier would have
+given more than he had to win the boy to himself.  Do you ever think what
+the boy must have suffered?  He does not know.  Only you and I know!"
+She paused.
+
+He thrust out a hand as though to stay her speech, but she went on again
+
+"Go away from me.  You have spoiled my life; you have spoiled my boy's
+life, and now he fights you.  I give him no help save in one direction.
+I give to him something his reputed father withheld from him.  Don't you
+think it a strange thing"--her voice was thick with feeling--"that he
+never could bear to take money from John Grier, and that, even as a
+child, gifts seemed to trouble him.  I think he wanted to give back again
+all that John Grier had ever paid out to him or for him; and now, at
+last, he fights the man who gave him birth!  I wanted to tell John Grier
+all, but I did not because I knew it would spoil his life and my boy's
+life.  It was nothing to me whether I lived or died.  But I could not
+bear Carnac should know.  He was too noble to have his life spoiled."
+
+Barode Barouche drew himself together.  Here was a deep, significant
+problem, a situation that needed more expert handling than he had ever
+shown.  As he stood by the table, the dim light throwing haggard
+reflections on her face, he had a feeling that she was more than normal.
+He saw her greater than he had ever imagined her.  Something in him
+revolted at a war between his own son and himself.  Also, he wanted to
+tell her of the danger in which Carnac was--how Luzanne had come, and was
+hidden away in the outskirts of the city, waiting for the moment when the
+man who rejected her should be sacrificed.
+
+Now that Barouche was face to face with Alma Grier, however, he felt the
+appalling nature of his task.  In all the years he had taken no chance to
+pay tribute to the woman who, in a real sense, had been his mistress of
+body and mind for one short term of life, and who once, and once only,
+had yielded to him.  They were both advanced in years, and Life and Time
+had taken toll.  She was haggard, yet beautiful in a wan way.  He did not
+believe the vanished years had placed between them an impassable barrier.
+
+He put his chances to the test at last.
+
+"Yes, I know--I understand.  You remained silent because your nature was
+too generous to injure anyone.  Down at the bottom of his heart,
+cantankerous, tyrannical as he was, John Grier loved you, and I loved you
+also."
+
+She made a protest of her hand.  "Oh, no!  You never knew what love was--
+never!  You had passion, you had hunger of the body, but of love you did
+not know.  I know you, Barode Barouche.  You have no heart, you have only
+sentiment and imagination.  No--no, you could not be true.  You could
+never know how."
+
+Suddenly a tempest of fire seemed to burn in his eyes, in his whole
+being.  His face flushed: his eyes gleamed; his hands were thrust out
+with passion.
+
+"Will you not understand that were I as foul as hell, a woman like you
+would make me clean again?  The wild sin of our youth has eaten into the
+soul of my life.  You think I have been indifferent to you and to our
+boy.  No, never-never!  That I left you both to yourselves was the best
+proof I was not neglectful.  I was sorry, with all my soul, that you
+should have suffered through me.  In the first reaction, I felt that
+nothing could put me right with you or with eternal justice.  So I shrank
+away from you.  You thought it was lust satisfied.  I tell you it was
+honour shamed.  Good God!  You thought me just the brazen roue, who
+seized what came his way, who ate the fruit within his grasp, who lived
+to deceive for his own selfish joy.
+
+"Did you think that?  Then, if you did, I do not wonder you should be glad
+to see my son fighting me.  It would seem the horrible revenge Destiny
+should take."  He took a step nearer to her.  His face flamed, his arms
+stretched out.  "I have held you in these arms.  I come with repentance
+in my heart, with--"
+
+Her face now was flushed.  She interrupted him.
+
+"I don't believe in you, Barode Barouche.  At least my husband did not go
+from his hearthstone looking for what belonged to others.  No--No--no;
+however much I suffered, I understood that what he did not feel for me at
+least he felt for no one else.  To him, life was his business, and to the
+long end business mastered his emotions.  I have no faith in you!  In the
+depth of my soul something cries out: 'He is not true.  His life is
+false.'  To leave me that was right, but, monsieur, not as you left me.
+You pick the fruit and eat it and spit upon the ground the fibre and the
+skin.  I am no longer the slave of your false eloquence.  It has nothing
+in it for me now, nothing at all--nothing."
+
+"Yet your son--has he naught of me?  If your son has genius, I have the
+right to say a part of it came from me.  Why should you say that all
+that's good in the boy is yours--that the boy, in all he does and says,
+is yours!  No--no.  Your long years of suffering have hardened into
+injustice and wrong."
+
+Suddenly he touched her arm.  "There are women as young as you were when
+I wronged you, who would be my wife now--young, beautiful, buoyant; but I
+come to you because I feel we might still have some years of happiness.
+Together, where our boy's fate mattered, we two could help him on his
+way.  That is what I feel, my dear."
+
+When he touched her arm she did not move, yet there was in his fingers
+something which stirred ulcers long since healed and scarred.  She
+stepped back from him.
+
+"Do not touch me.  The past is buried for ever.  There can be no
+resurrection.  I know what I should do, and I will do it.  For the rest
+of my life, I shall live for my son.  I hope he will defeat you.  I don't
+lift a hand to help him except to give him money, not John Grier's money
+but my own, always that.  You are fighting what is stronger than
+yourself.  One thing is sure, he is nearer to the spirit of your race
+than you.  He will win--but yes, he will win!"
+
+Her face suffused with warmth, became alive with a wonderful fire, her
+whole being had a simple tragedy.  Once again, and perhaps for the last
+time, she had renewed the splendour of her young womanhood.  The vital
+warmth of a great idea had given an expression to her face which had long
+been absent from it.
+
+He fell back from her.  Then suddenly passion seized him.  The gaunt
+beauty of her roused a spirit of contest in him.  The evil thing in him,
+which her love for her son had almost conquered, came back upon him.  He
+remembered Luzanne, and now with a spirit alive with anger he said to
+her:
+
+"No--no--no, he cannot win."  He stretched out a hand.  "I have that
+which will keep for me the place in Parliament that has been mine; which
+will send him back to the isolation whence he came.  Do you think I don't
+know how to win an election?  Why from east to west, from north to south
+in this Province of Quebec my name, my fame, have been all-conquering.
+Suppose he did defeat me, do you think that would end my political life?
+It would end nothing.  I should still go on."
+
+A scornful smile came to her lips.  "So you think your party would find a
+seat for you who had been defeated by a young man who never knew what
+political life meant till he came to this campaign?  You think they would
+find you a seat?  I know you are coming to the end of your game, and when
+he defeats you, it will finish everything for you.  You will disappear
+from public life, and your day will be done.  Men will point at you as
+you pass along the street, and say: 'There goes Barode Barouche.  He was
+a great man in his day.  He was defeated by a boy with a painter's brush
+in his hand.'  He will take from you your livelihood.  You will go, and
+he will stay; he will conquer and grow strong.  Go from me, Barode
+Barouche," she cried, thrusting out her hands against him, "go from me.
+I love my son with all my soul.  His father has no place in my heart."
+
+There had been upon him the wild passion of revenge.  It had mastered
+him before she spoke, and while she spoke, but, as she finished, the
+understanding spirit of him conquered.  Instead of telling her of Luzanne
+Larue, and of what he would do if he found things going against him,
+instead of that he resolved to say naught.  He saw he could not conquer
+her.  For a minute after she had ceased speaking, he watched her in
+silence, and in his eyes was a remorse which would never leave them.
+She was master.
+
+Slowly, and with a sense of defeat, he said to her: "Well, we shall never
+meet again like this.  The fight goes on.  I will defeat Carnac.  No, do
+not shake your head.  He shall not put me from my place.  For you and me
+there is no future--none; yet I want to say to you before we part for
+ever now, that you have been deeper in my life than any other woman
+since I was born."
+
+He said no more.  Catching up his hat from the chair, and taking his
+stick, he left the room.  He opened the front door, stepped out, shut it
+behind him and, in a moment, was lost in the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+POINT TO POINT
+
+While these things were happening, Carnac was spending all his time in
+the constituency.  Every day was busy to the last minute, every hole in
+the belt of his equipment was buckled tight.  In spite of his enthusiasm
+he was, however, troubled by the fact that Luzanne might appear.  Yet as
+time went on he gained confidence.  There were days, however, when he
+appeared, mentally, to be watching the street corners.
+
+One day at a public meeting he thought the sensation had come.  He had
+just finished his speech in reply to Barode Barouche--eloquent, eager,
+masterful.  Youth's aspirations, with a curious sympathy with the French
+Canadian people, had idealized his utterances.  When he finished there
+had been cheering, but in the quiet instant that followed the cheering,
+a habitant got up--a weird, wilful fellow who had a reputation for brag,
+yet who would not have hurt an enemy save in wild passion.
+
+"M'sieu' Carnac Grier," he said, "I'd like to put a question to you.
+You've been asking for our votes.  We're a family people, we Canucs, and
+we like to know where we're going.  Tell me, m'sieu', where's your
+woman?"
+
+Having asked the question, he remained standing.  "Where's your woman?"
+the habitant had asked.  Carnac's breath came quick and sharp.  There
+were many hundreds present, and a good number of them were foes.  Barode
+Barouche was on the same platform.
+
+Not only Carnac was stirred by the question, for Barouche, who had
+listened to his foe's speech with admiring anxiety, was startled.
+
+"Where's your woman?" was not a phrase to be asked anyhow, or anywhere.
+Barouche was glad of the incident.  Ready as he was to meet challenge, he
+presently realized that his son had a readiness equally potent.  He was
+even pleased to see the glint of a smile at the lips of the slim young
+politician, in whom there was more than his own commingling of
+temperament, wisdom, wantonness and raillery.
+
+After a moment, Carnac said: "Isn't that a leading question to an
+unmarried man?"
+
+Barouche laughed inwardly.  Surely it was the reply he himself would have
+made.  Carnac had showed himself a born politician.  The audience
+cheered, but the questioner remained standing.  He meant to ask another
+question.
+
+"Sit down--sit down, jackass!" shouted some of the more raucous of the
+crowd, but the man was stubborn.  He stretched out an arm towards Carnac.
+
+"Bien, look here, my son, you take my advice.  Pursue the primrose path
+into the meadows of matrimony."
+
+Again Carnac shrank, but his mind rallied courageously, and he said:
+"There are other people who want to ask questions, perhaps."  He turned
+to Barode Barouche.  "I don't suggest my opponent has planned this
+heckling, but he can see it does no good.  I'm not to be floored by
+catch-penny tricks.  I'm going to win.  I run straight.  I haven't been
+long enough in politics to learn how to deceive.  Let the accomplished
+professionals do that.  They know how."
+
+He waved a hand disdainfully at Barouche.  "Let them put forth all that's
+in them, I will remain; let them exert the last ounce of energy, I will
+prevail; let them use the thousand devices of elections, I will use no
+device, but rely upon my policy.  I want nothing except my chance in
+Parliament.  My highest ambition is to make good laws.  I am for the man
+who was the first settler on the St. Lawrence and this section of the
+continent--his history, his tradition, his honour and fame are in the
+history books of the world.  If I should live a hundred years, I should
+wish nothing better than the honour of having served the men whose
+forefathers served Frontenac, Cartier, La Salle and Maisonneuve, and all
+the splendid heroes of that ancient age.  What they have done is for all
+men to do.  They have kept the faith.  I am for the habitant, for the
+land of his faith and love, first and last and all the time."
+
+He sat down in a tumult of cheering.  Many present remarked that no two
+men they had ever heard spoke so much alike, and kept their attacks so
+free from personal things.
+
+There had been at this public meeting two intense supporters of Carnac,
+who waited for him at the exit from the main doorway.  They were Fabian's
+wife and Junia.
+
+Barode Barouche came out of the hall before Carnac.  His quick eye saw
+the two ladies, and he raised his broad-brimmed hat like a Stuart
+cavalier, and smiled.
+
+"Waiting for your champion, eh?" he asked with cynical friendliness.
+"Well, work hard, because that will soften his fall."  He leaned over, as
+it were confidentially, to them, while his friends craned their necks to
+hear what he said: "If I were you I'd prepare him.  He's beaten as sure
+as the sun shines."
+
+Junia was tempted to say what was in her mind, but her sister Sibyl, who
+resented Barouche's patronage, said:
+
+"There's an old adage about the slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, Monsieur
+Barouche.  He's young, and he's got a better policy than yours."
+
+"And he's unmarried, eh!" Barouche remarked.  "He's unmarried, and I
+suppose that matters!"  There was an undercurrent of meaning in his voice
+which did not escape Junia.
+
+"And Monsieur Barouche is also unmarried," she remarked.  "So you're even
+there."
+
+"Not quite even.  I'm a widower.  The women don't work for me as they
+work for him."
+
+"I don't understand," remarked Junia.  "The women can't all marry him."
+
+"There are a lot of things that can't be understood by just blinking the
+eyes, but there's romance in the fight of an unmarried man, and women
+like romance even if it's some one else's.  There's sensation in it."
+
+Barouche looked to where Carnac was slowly coming down the centre of the
+hall.  Women were waving handkerchiefs and throwing kisses towards him.
+One little girl was pushed in front of him, and she reached out a hand in
+which was a wild rose.
+
+"That's for luck, m'sieu'," she said.
+
+Carnac took the rose, and placed it in his buttonhole; then, stooping
+down, he kissed the child's cheek.  Outside the hall, Barode Barouche
+winked an eye knowingly.  "He's got it all down to a science.  Look at
+him--kissing the young chick.  Nevertheless, he's walking into an abyss."
+
+Carnac was near enough now for the confidence in his face to be seen.
+Barouche's eyes suddenly grew resentful.  Sometimes he had a feeling of
+deep affection for his young challenger; sometimes there was a storm of
+anger in his bosom, a hatred which can be felt only for a member of one's
+own family.  Resentment showed in his face now.  This boy was winning
+friends on every side.
+
+Something in the two men, some vibration of temperament, struck the same
+chord in Junia's life and being.  She had noticed similar gestures,
+similar intonations of voice, and, above all else, a little toss of the
+head backwards.  She knew they were not related, and so she put the whole
+thing down to Carnac's impressionable nature which led its owner into
+singular imitations.  It had done so in the field of Art.  He was young
+enough to be the imitator without loss to himself.
+
+"I'm doing my best to defeat you," she said to Barouche, reaching out a
+hand for good-bye, "and I shall work harder now than ever.  You're so
+sure you're going to win that I'd disappoint you, monsieur--only to do
+you good."
+
+"Ah, I'm sorry you haven't any real interest in Carnac Grier, if it's
+only to do me good!  Well, goodbye--good-bye," he added, raising his hat,
+and presently was gone.
+
+As Carnac drew near, Fabian's wife stepped forward.  "Carnac," she said,
+"I hope you'll come with us on the river in Fabian's steam-launch.
+There's work to do there.  It's pay-day in the lumber-yards on the
+Island, so please come.  Will you?"
+
+Carnac laughed.  "Yes, there's no engagement to prevent it."  He thanked
+Junia and Sibyl for all they had done for him, and added: "I'd like a
+couple of hours among the rivermen.  Where's the boat?"  Fabian's wife
+told him, and added: "I've got the roan team here, and you can drive us
+down, if you will."
+
+A few moments afterwards, with the cheers of the crowd behind them, they
+were being driven by Carnac to the wharf where lay the "Fleur-de-lis."
+On board was Fabian.
+
+"Had a good meeting, Carnac?" Fabian asked.
+
+"I should call it first-class.  It was like a storm, at sea-wind from one
+direction, then from another, but I think on the whole we had the best of
+it.  Don't you think so?" he added to Fabian's wife.
+
+"Oh, much the best," she answered.  "That's so, Junia, isn't it?"
+
+"I wouldn't say so positively," answered Junia.  "I don't understand
+Monsieur Barouche.  He talked as if he had something up his sleeve."
+Her face became clouded.  "Have you any idea what it is, Carnac?"
+
+Carnac laughingly shook his head.  "That's his way.  He's always
+bluffing.  He does it to make believe the game's his, and to destroy my
+confidence.  He's a man of mark, but he's having the biggest fight he
+ever had--of that I'm sure.  .  .  .  Do you think I'll win?" he asked
+Junia presently with a laugh, as they made their way down the river.
+"Have I conquest in my eye?"
+
+How seldom did Junia have Carnac to herself in these days!  How kind of
+Fabian to lend his yacht for the purpose of canvassing!  But Sibyl had in
+her mind a deeper thing--she had become a match-maker.  She and Fabian,
+when the boat left the shore, went to one corner of the stern, leaving
+Carnac and Junia in the bow.
+
+Three miles below the city was the Island on which many voters were
+working in a saw-mill and lumberyard.  It had supporters of Barouche
+chiefly in the yards and mills.  Carnac had never visited it, and it was
+Junia's view that he should ingratiate himself with the workers, a rough-
+and-ready lot.  They were ready to "burst a meeting" or bludgeon a
+candidate on occasion.
+
+When Carnac asked his question Junia smiled up at him.  "Yes, I think
+you'll win, Carnac.  You have the tide with you."  Presently she added:
+"I'm not sure that you've got all the cards, though--I don't know why,
+but I have that fear."
+
+"You think that--"
+
+She nodded.  "I think Monsieur Barouche has some cards he hasn't played
+yet.  What they are I don't know, but he's confident.  Tell me, Carnac,
+is there any card that would defeat you?  Have you committed any crime
+against the law--no, I'm sure you haven't, but I want to hear you say
+so."  She smiled cheerfully at him.
+
+"He has no card of any crime of mine, and he can't hit me in a mortal
+place."
+
+"You have the right policy for this province.  But tell me, is there
+anyone who could hurt you, who could spring up in the fight--man or
+woman?"
+
+She looked him straight in the eye, and his own did not waver.
+
+"There's no one has a knock-out blow for me--that's sure.  I can weather
+any storm."
+
+He paused, however, disconcerted, for the memory of Luzanne came to him,
+and his spirit became clouded.  "Except one--except one," he added.
+
+"And you won't tell me who it is?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT
+
+"No, I can't tell you--yet," answered Carnac.  "You ought to know; though
+you can't put things right."
+
+"Don't forget you are a public man, and what might happen if things went
+wrong.  There are those who would gladly roast you on a gridiron for what
+you are in politics."
+
+"I never forget it.  I've no crime to repent of, and I'm afraid of
+nothing in the last resort.  Look, we're nearing the Island."
+
+"It's your worst place in the constituency, and I'm not sure of your
+reception.  Oh, but yes, I am," she added hastily.  "You always win good
+feeling.  No one really hates you.  You're on the way to big success."
+
+"I've had some unexpected luck.  I've got Tarboe on my side.  He's a
+member of Barouche's party, but he's coming with me."
+
+"Did he tell you so?" she asked with apparent interest.
+
+"I've had a letter from him, and in it he says he is with me 'to the
+knife!'  That's good.  Tarboe has a big hold on rivermen, and he may
+carry with him some of the opposition.  It was a good letter--if
+puzzling."
+
+"How, puzzling?"
+
+"He said in one part of it: 'When you come back here to play your part
+you'll make it a success, the whole blessed thing.'  I've no idea what he
+meant by that.  I don't think he wants me as a partner, and I'll give him
+no chance of it.  I don't want now what I could have had when Fabian
+left.  That's all over, Junia."
+
+"He meant something by it; he's a very able man," she replied gravely.
+"He's a huge success."
+
+"And women love success more than all else," he remarked a little
+cynically.
+
+"You're unjust, Carnac.  Of course, women love success; but they'd not
+sell their souls for it--not the real women--and you ought to know it."
+
+"I ought to know it, I suppose," he answered, and he held her eyes
+meaningly.  He was about to say something vital, but Fabian and his wife
+came.
+
+Fabian said to him: "Don't be surprised if you get a bad reception here,
+Carnac.  It's the worst place on the river, and I've no influence over
+the men--I don't believe Tarboe could have.  They're a difficult lot.
+There's Eugene Grandois, he's as bad as they make 'em.  He's got a grudge
+against us because of some act of father, and he may break out any time.
+He's a labour leader too, and we must be vigilant."
+
+Carnac nodded.  He made no reply in words.  They were nearing the little
+dock, and men were coming to the point where the launch would stop.
+
+"There's Grandois now!" said Fabian with a wry smile, for he had a
+real fear of results.  He had, however, no idea how skilfully Carnac
+would handle the situation--yet he had heard much of his brother's
+adaptability.  He had no psychological sense, and Carnac had big
+endowment of it.  Yet Carnac was not demonstrative.  It was his quiet
+way that played his game for him.  He never spoke, if being could do what
+he wanted.  He had the sense of physical speech with out words.  He was a
+bold adventurer, but his methods were those of the subtlest.  If a motion
+of the hand was sufficient, then let it go at that.
+
+"You people after our votes never come any other time," sneeringly said
+Eugene Grandois, as Carnac and Fabian landed.  "It's only when you want
+to use us."
+
+"Would you rather I didn't come at all?" asked Carnac with a friendly
+smile.  "You can't have it both ways.  If I came here any other time
+you'd want to know why I didn't stay away, and I come now because it's
+good you should know if I'm fit to represent you in Parliament."
+
+"There's sense, my bonny boy," said an English-Canadian labourer standing
+near.  "What you got to say to that, little skeezicks?" he added
+teasingly to Eugene Grandois.
+
+"He ain't got more gifts than his father had, and we all know what he
+was--that's so, bagosh!" remarked Grandois viciously.
+
+"Well, what sort of a man was he?" asked Carnac cooly, with a warning
+glance at Fabian, who was resentful.  Indeed, Fabian would have struck
+the man if his brother had not been present, and then been torn to pieces
+himself.
+
+"What sort--don't you know the kind of things he done?  If you don't, I
+do, and there's lots of others know, and don't you forget it, mon vieux."
+
+"That's no answer, Monsieur Grandois--none at all.  It tells nothing,"
+remarked Carnac cheerily.
+
+"You got left out of his will, m'sieu', you talk as if he was all right
+--that's blither."
+
+"My father had a conscience.  He gave me chance to become a partner in
+the business, and I wouldn't, and he threw me over--what else was there
+to do?  I could have owned the business to-day, if I'd played the game as
+he thought it ought to be played.  I didn't, and he left me out--that's
+all."
+
+"Makin' your own way, ain't you?" said the English labourer.  "That's
+hit you where you're tender, Grandois.  What you got to say to that?"
+
+The intense black eyes of the habitant sparkled wickedly, his jaws set
+with passion, and his sturdy frame seemed to fasten to the ground.  His
+gnarled hands now shot out fiercely.
+
+"What I got to say!  Only this: John Grier played the devil's part.  He
+turned me and my family out into the streets in winter-time, and the law
+upheld him, old beast that he was--sacre diable!"
+
+"Beast-devil!  Grandois, those are hard words about a man in his son's
+presence, and they're not true.  You think you can say such things
+because I'm standing for Parliament.  Beast, devil, eh?  You've got a
+free tongue, Grandois; you forgot to say that my father paid the doctor's
+bill for your whole family when they were taken down with smallpox; and
+he kept them for weeks afterwards.  You forgot to recall that when he
+turned you out for being six months behind with your rent and making no
+effort to pay up!  Who was the devil and beast then, Grandois?  Who spat
+upon his own wife and children then?  You haven't a good memory.  .  .  .
+Come, I think your account with my father is squared; and I want you to
+vote to put my father's son in Parliament, and to put out Barode
+Barouche, who's been there too long.  Come, come, Grandois, isn't it a
+bargain?  Your tongue's sharp, but your heart's in the right place--is it
+a bargain?"
+
+He held out his hand with applause from the crowd, but Grandois was not
+to be softened.  His anger, however, had behind it some sense of caution,
+and what Carnac said about the smallpox incident struck him hard.  It was
+the first time he had ever been hit between the eyes where John Grier was
+concerned.  His prestige with the men was now under a shadow, yet he
+dared not deny the truth of the statement.  It could be proved.  His
+braggart hatred of John Grier had come home to roost.  Carnac saw that,
+and he was glad he had challenged the man.  He believed that in politics,
+as in all other departments of life, candour and bold play were best in
+the long run.  Yet he would like to see the man in a different humour,
+and with joy he heard Junia say to Grandois.
+
+"How is the baby boy, and how is madame, Monsieur Grandois?"
+
+It came at the right moment, for only two days before had Madame Grandois
+given her husband the boy for which he had longed.  Junia had come to
+know of it through a neighbour and had sent jellies to the sick woman.
+As she came forward now, Grandois, taken aback, said:
+
+"Alors, they're all right, ma'm'selle, thank you.  It was you sent the
+jellies, eh?"
+
+She nodded with a smile.  "Yes, I sent them, Grandois.  May I come and
+see madame and the boy to-morrow?"
+
+The incident had taken a favourable turn.
+
+"It's about even-things between us, Grandois?" asked Carnac, and held
+out his hand.  "My father hit you, but you hit him harder by forgetting
+about the smallpox and the rent, and also by drinking up the cash that
+ought to have paid the rent.  It doesn't matter now that the rent was
+never paid, but it does that you recall the smallpox debt.  Can't you say
+a word for me, Grandois?  You're a big man here among all the workers.
+I'm a better Frenchman than the man I'm trying to turn out.  Just a word
+for a good cause.
+
+"They're waiting for you, and your hand on it!  Here's a place for you on
+the roost.  Come up."
+
+The "roost" was an upturned tub lying face down on the ground, and in
+the passion of the moment, the little man gripped Carnac's hand and stood
+on the tub to great cheering; for if there was one thing the French-
+Canadians love, it is sensation, and they were having it.  They were
+mostly Barouche's men, but they were emotional, and melodrama had stirred
+their feelings.
+
+Besides, like the Irish, they had a love of feminine nature, and in all
+the river-coves Junia was known by sight at least, and was admired.  She
+had the freshness of face and mind which is the heart of success with the
+habitants.  With Eugene Grandois on his feet, she heard a speech which
+had in it the best spirit of Gallic eloquence, though it was crude.  But
+it was forcible and adroit.
+
+"Friends and comrades," said Eugene Grandois, with his hands playing
+loosely, "there's been misunderstandings between me and the Grier family,
+and I was out against it, but I see things different since M'sieu' Carnac
+has spoke--and I'm changing my mind--certainlee.  That throwing out of my
+house hit me and my woman and little ones hard, and I've been resentin'
+it all these years till now; but I'm weighin' one thing agin another, and
+I'm willing to forget my wrongs for this young man's sake.  He's for us
+French.  Alors, some of you was out to hurt our friend M'sieu' Carnac
+here, and I didn't say no to it; but you'd better keep your weapons for
+election day and use them agin Barode Barouche.
+
+"I got a change of heart.  I've laid my plate on the table with a prayer
+that I get it filled with good political doctrine, and I've promise that
+the food I'm to get is what's best for all of us.  M'sieu' Carnac Grier's
+got the right stuff in him, and I'm for him both hands up--both hands way
+up high, nom de pipe!"
+
+At that he raised both hands above his head with a loud cheer, and later
+Carnac Grier was carried to the launch in the arms of Eugene Grandois'
+friends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE BLUE PAPER
+
+"Who are you, ma'm'selle?"
+
+It was in the house of Eugene Grandois that this question was asked of
+Junia.  She had followed the experience on the Island by a visit to
+Grandois' house, carrying delicacies for the sick wife.  Denzil had come
+with her, and was waiting in the street.
+
+She had almost ended her visit when the outer door opened and Luzanne
+Larue entered carrying a dish she placed on the table, eyeing Junia
+closely.  First they bowed to each other, and Junia gave a pleasant
+smile, but instantly she felt here was a factor in her own life--how,
+she could not tell.
+
+To Luzanne, the face of Junia had no familiar feature, and yet she felt
+here was one whose life's lines crossed her own.  So it was she presently
+said, "Who are you, ma'm'selle?" in a sharp voice.  As Junia did not
+reply at once, she put the question in another form: "What is your name,
+ma'm'selle?"
+
+"It is Junia Shale," said the other calmly, yet with heart beating hard.
+Somehow the question foreshadowed painful things, associated with Carnac.
+Her first glance at Luzanne showed the girl was well dressed, that she
+had a face of some beauty, that her eyes were full of glamour--black and
+bold, and, in a challenging way, beautiful.  It was a face and figure
+full of daring.  She was not French-Canadian; yet she was French; that
+was clear from her accent.  Yet the voice had an accent of crudity, and
+the plump whiteness of the skin and waving fulness of the hair gave the
+girl a look of an adventuress.  She was dressed in black with a white
+collar which, by contrast, seemed to heighten her unusual nature.
+
+At first Junia shuddered, for Luzanne's presence made her uneasy; yet the
+girl must have good qualities, for she had brought comforts to the sick
+woman, and indeed, within, madame had spoken of the "dear beautiful
+stranger."  That could be no other than this girl.  She became composed.
+Yet she had a feeling that between them was a situation needing all her
+resources.  About what?  She would soon know, and she gave her name at
+last slowly, keeping her eyes on those of Luzanne.
+
+At mention of the name, Luzanne's eyes took on prejudice and moroseness.
+The pupils enlarged, the lids half closed, the face grew sour.
+
+"Junia Shale--you are Junia Shale?"  The voice was bitter and resentful.
+
+Junia nodded, and in her smile was understanding and conflict, for she
+felt this girl to be her foe.
+
+"We must have a talk--that's sure," Luzanne said with decision.
+
+"Who are you?" asked Junia calmly.  "I am Luzanne Larue."
+
+"That makes me no wiser."
+
+"Hasn't Carnac Grier spoken of me?"
+
+Junia shook her head, and turned her face towards the door of Madame
+Grandois' room.  "Had we not better go somewhere else to talk, after
+you've seen Madame Grandois and the baby?" she asked with a smile, yet
+she felt she was about to face an alarming event.  "Madame Grandois has
+spoken pleasantly of you to me," Junia added, for tact was her prompt
+faculty.  "If you'd come where we could talk undisturbed--do you see?"
+
+Luzanne made no reply in words, but taking up the dish she went into the
+sick-room, and Junia heard her in short friendly speech with Madame
+Grandois.  Luzanne appeared again soon and spoke: "Now we can go where
+I'm boarding.  It's only three doors away, and we can be safe there.
+You'd like to talk with me--ah, yes, surelee!"
+
+Her eyes were combative and repellent, but Junia was not dismayed, and
+she said: "What shall we talk about?"
+
+"There's only one thing and one person to talk about, ma'm'selle."
+
+"I still don't know what you mean."
+
+"Aren't you engaged to Carnac Grier?  Don't you think you're going to
+marry him?  .  .  .  Don't you like to tell the truth, then?" she added.
+
+Junia raised her eyebrows.  "I'm not engaged to Carnac Grier, and he has
+never asked me to marry him--but what business is it of yours,
+ma'm'selle?"
+
+"Come and I'll tell you."  Luzanne moved towards the door.  They were
+speechless till they reached Luzanne's lodgings.
+
+"This is the house of Monsieur Marmette, an agent of Monsieur Barouche,"
+said Junia.  "I know it."
+
+"You'll know it better soon.  The agent of M'sieu' Barouche is a man of
+mark about here, and he'll be more marked soon--but yes!"
+
+"You think Monsieur Barouche will be elected, do you?" asked Junia, as
+they closed the door.
+
+"I know he will."
+
+"I've been working for Monsieur Grier, and that isn't my opinion."
+
+"I'm working for Barode Barouche, and I know the result."
+
+They were now in Luzanne's small room, and Junia noted that it had all
+the characteristics of a habitant dwelling--even to the crucifix at the
+head of the bed, and the picture of the French-Canadian Premier of the
+Dominion on the wall.  She also saw a rosary on a little hook beside the
+bed.
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Because I am the wife of Carnac Grier, and I know what will happen to
+him.  .  .  .  You turn pale, ma'm'selle, but your colour isn't going to
+alter the truth.  I'm Carnac Grier's wife by the laws of New York State."
+
+"Does Monsieur Grier admit he is your husband?"
+
+"He must respect the law by which he married me."
+
+"I don't believe he was ever honestly married to you," declared Junia.
+"Has he ever lived with you--for a single day?"
+
+"What difference would that make?  I have the marriage certificate here."
+She touched her bosom.
+
+"I'd have thought you were Barode Barouche's wife by the way you act.
+Isn't it a wife's duty to help her husband--Shouldn't you be fighting
+against Barode Barouche?"
+
+"I mean to be recognized as Carnac Grier's wife--that's why I'm here."
+
+"Have you seen him since you've been here?  Have you told him how you're
+working against him?  Have you got the certificate with you?"
+
+"Of course.  I've got my head on like a piece of flesh and blood that
+belongs to me--bien sur."
+
+She suddenly drew from her breast a folded piece of blue paper.  "There
+it is, signed by Judge Grimshaw that married us, and there's the seal;
+and the whole thing can't be set aside.  Look at it, if you like,
+petite."
+
+She held it not far from Junia's face, and Junia could see that it was
+registration of a marriage of New York State.  She could have snatched
+the paper away, but she meant to conquer Luzanne's savage spirit.  "Well,
+how do you intend to defeat your husband?"
+
+"I mean to have the people asked from a platform if they've seen the wife
+of the candidate, and then a copy of the certificate will be read to all.
+What do you think will happen after that?"
+
+"It will have to be done to-night or to-morrow night," remarked Junia.
+
+"Because the election comes the day after to-morrow,--eh
+
+"Because of that.  And who will read the document?"
+
+"Who but the man he's trying to defeat?--tell me that."
+
+"You mean Barode Barouche?"
+
+"Who else?"
+
+"Has he agreed to do it?"
+
+Luzanne nodded.  "On the day--Carnac became a candidate."
+
+"And if Carnac Grier denies it?"
+
+"He won't deny it.  He never has.  He says he was drunk when the thing
+was done--mais, oui."
+
+"Is that all he says?"
+
+"No.  He says he didn't know it was a real marriage, and--" Luzanne then
+related Carnac's defence, and added: "Do you think anyone would believe
+him with the facts as they are?  Remember I'm French and he's English,
+and that marriage to a French girl is life and death; and this is a
+French province!"
+
+"And yet you are a Catholic and French, and were married by a Protestant
+judge."
+
+"That is my own affair, ma'm'selle."
+
+"It is not the thing to say to French-Canadians here.  What do you get
+out of it all?  If he is your husband, wouldn't it be better to have him
+successful than your defeated victim.  What will be yours if you defeat--"
+
+"Revenge--my rights--the law!" was the sharp rejoinder.
+
+Junia smiled.  "What is there in it all for you?  If the man I married
+did not love me, I'd use the law to be free.  What's the good of trying
+to destroy a husband who doesn't love you, who never loved you--never."
+
+"You don't know that," retorted Luzanne sharply.
+
+"Yes, I do.  He never loved you.  He never lived with you for a single
+day.  That's in the power of a doctor to prove.  If you are virtuous,
+then he has taken nothing; if you have given your all, and not to Carnac
+Grier, what will his mind be about you?  Is it money?  He has no money
+except what he earns.  His father left him nothing--not a dollar.  Why do
+you hate him so?  I've known him all my life, and I've never known him
+hurt man or animal.  When did he ever misuse you, or hurt you?  Did he
+ever treat you badly?  How did you come to know him?  Answer that."
+
+She paused and Luzanne flushed.  The first meeting!  Why, that was the
+day Carnac had saved her life, had taken her home safe from danger, and
+had begun a friendship with behind it only a desire to help her.  And how
+had she repaid the saviour of her life?  By tricking him into a marriage,
+and then by threatening him if he did not take her to his home. Truth is,
+down beneath her misconduct was a passion for the man which, not
+satisfied, became a passion to destroy him and his career.  It was a
+characteristic of her blood and breed.  It was a relic of ancient
+dishonour, inherited and searching; it was atavism and the incorrigible
+thing.  Beneath everything was her desire for the man, and the mood in
+which she had fought for him was the twist of a tortured spirit.  She
+was not so deliberate as her actions had indicated.  She had been under
+the malicious influence of her father and her father's friend.  She was
+like one possessed of a spirit that would not be deterred from its
+purpose.  Junia saw the impression she had made, and set it down to her
+last words.
+
+"Where did you first meet him?  What was the way of it?" she added.
+
+Suddenly Junia came forward and put her hands on Luzanne's shoulders.
+"I think you loved Carnac once, and perhaps you love him now, and are
+only trying to hurt him out of anger.  If you destroy him, you will
+repent of it--so soon!  I don't know what is behind these things you are
+doing, but you'll be sorry for it when it is too late.  Yes, I know you
+have loved Carnac, for I see all the signs--"
+
+"Do you love him then, ma'm'selle?" asked Luzanne exasperated.  "Do you
+love him?"
+
+"He has never asked me, and I have never told him that; and I don't know,
+but, if I did, I would move heaven and earth to help him, and if he
+didn't love me I'd help him just the same.  And so, I think, should you.
+If you ever loved him, then you ought to save him from evil.  Tell me,
+did Carnac ever do you a kind act, one that is worth while in your life?"
+
+For a moment Luzanne stood dismayed, then a new expression drove the dark
+light from her eyes.  It was as though she had found a new sense.
+
+"He saved my life the day we first met," she said at last under Junia's
+hypnotic influence.
+
+"And now you would strike him when he is trying to do the big thing.  You
+threaten to declare his marriage, in the face of those who can elect him
+to play a great part for his country."
+
+Junia saw the girl was in emotional turmoil, was obsessed by one idea,
+and she felt her task had vast difficulty.  That Carnac should have
+married the girl was incredible, that he had played an unworthy part
+seemed sure; yet it was in keeping with his past temperament.  The girl
+was the extreme contrast of himself, with dark--almost piercing-eyes, and
+a paleness which was physically constitutional--the joy of the artistic
+spirit.  It was the head of a tragedienne or a martyr, and the lean,
+rather beautiful body was eloquent of life.
+
+Presently Junia said: "To try to spoil him would be a crime against his
+country, and I shall tell him you are here."
+
+"He'll do nothing at all."  The French girl's words were suddenly biting,
+malicious and defiant.  The moment's softness she had felt was gone, and
+hardness returned.  "If he hasn't moved against me since he married me,
+he wouldn't dare do so now."
+
+"Why hasn't he moved?  Because you're a woman, and also he'd believe
+you'd repent of your conduct.  But I believe he will act sternly against
+you at once.  There is much at stake."
+
+"You want it for your own sake," said Luzanne sharply.  "You think he'd
+marry you if I gave him up."
+
+"Perhaps he'd ask me to marry him, if you weren't in the way, but I'd
+have my own mind about that, and knowing what you've told me--truth or
+lie--I'd weigh it all carefully.  Besides, he's not the only man.
+Doesn't that ever strike you?  Why try to hold him by a spurious bond
+when there are other men as good-looking, as clever?  Is your world so
+bare of men--no, I'm sure it isn't," she added, for she saw anger rising
+in the impulsive girl.  "There are many who'd want to marry you, and it's
+better to marry some one who loves you than to hold to one who doesn't
+love you at all.  Is it hate?  He saved your life--and that's how you
+came to know him first, and now you would destroy him!  He's a great man.
+He would not bend to his father's will, and so he was left without a sou
+of his father's money.  All because he has a conscience, and an
+independence worthy of the best that ever lived.  .  .  .  That's the
+soul of the man you are trying to hurt.  If you had a real soul, there
+wouldn't be even the thought of this crime.  Do you think he wouldn't
+loathe you, if you do this ghastly thing?  Would any real man endure it
+for an hour?  What do you expect to get but ugly revenge on a man who
+never gave anything except friendship?"
+
+"Friendship--friendship-yes, he gave that, but emotion too."
+
+"You think that real men marry women for whom they only have emotion.
+You think that he--Carnac Grier--would marry any woman on that basis?
+Come, ma'm'selle, the truth!  He didn't know he was being married, and
+when you told him it was a real marriage he left you at once.  You and
+yours tricked him--the man you'd never have known if he hadn't saved your
+life.  You thought that with your beauty--yes, you are beautiful--you'd
+conquer him, and that he'd give in, and become a real husband in a real
+home.  Come now, isn't that it?"
+
+The other did not reply.  Her face was alive with memories.  The lower
+things were flying from it, a spirit of womanhood was living in her--
+feebly, but truly, living.  She was now conscious of the insanity of her
+pursuit of Carnac.  For a few moments she stood silent, and then she said
+with agitation:
+
+"If I give this up"--she took from her breast the blue document--"he'd be
+safe in his election, and he'd marry you: is it not so, ma'm'selle?"
+
+"He'd be safe for his election, but he has never asked me to marry him,
+and there are others besides him.--She was thinking of Tarboe.  "Tell
+me," she added suddenly, "to whom have you told this thing in Montreal?
+Did you mean to challenge him yourself?"
+
+"I told it only to M'sieu' Barouche, and he said he would use it at the
+right moment--and the right moment has come," she added.  "He asked me
+for a copy of it last night, and I said I'd give it to him to-day.  It's
+because of him I've been here quiet all these weeks as Ma'm'selle Larue."
+
+"He is worse than you, mademoiselle, for he has known Carnac's family,
+and he has no excuse.  If a man can't win his fight fairly, he oughtn't
+to be in public life."
+
+After a few dark moments, with a sudden burst of feeling, Luzanne said:
+"Well, Carnac won't be out of public life through me!"
+
+She took the blue certificate from her breast and was about to tear it
+up, when Junia stopped her.
+
+"Don't do that," Junia said, "don't tear it up yet, give it to me.  I'll
+tear it up at the right moment.  Give it to me, my dear."
+
+She held out her hand, and the blue certificate was presently in her
+fingers.  She felt a sudden weakness in her knees, for it seemed she held
+the career of Carnac Grier, and it moved her as she had never been moved.
+
+With the yielding of the certificate, Luzanne seemed suddenly to lose
+self-control.  She sank on the bed beside the wall with a cry of
+distress.
+
+"Mon Dieu--oh, Mon Dieu!"  Then she sprang to her feet.  "Give it back,
+give it back tome," she cried, with frantic pain.  "It's all I have of
+him--it's all I have."
+
+"I won't give it back," declared Junia quietly.  "It's a man's career,
+and you must let it go.  It's the right thing to do.  Let it stand,
+mademoiselle."
+
+She fully realized the half-insane mind and purpose of the girl, and she
+wrapped her arms around the stricken figure.
+
+"See, my dear," she said, "it's no use.  You can't have it back.  Your
+soul is too big for that now.  You can be happy in the memory that you
+gave Carnac back his freedom."
+
+"But the record stands," said the girl helplessly.  "Tell the truth and
+have it removed.  You owe that to the man who saved your life.  Have it
+done at once at Shipton."
+
+"What will you do with the certificate?"  She glanced at Junia's bosom
+where the paper was hidden.  "I will give it to Carnac, and he can do
+what he likes with it."
+
+By now the tears were streaming down the face of Luzanne Larue, and hard
+as it was for Junia, she tried to comfort her, for the girl should be got
+away at once, and only friendliness could achieve that.  She would see
+Denzil--he was near by, waiting.
+
+There would be a train in two hours for New York and the girl must take
+it-she must.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+DENZIL TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME
+
+Barode Baruche was excited.  He had sure hope of defeating Carnac with
+the help of Luzanne Larue.  The woman had remained hidden since her
+coming, and the game was now in his hands.  On the night before the poll
+he could declare the thing, not easy to be forgiven by the French-
+Canadian public, which has a strong sense of domestic duty.  Carnac Grier
+was a Protestant, and that was bad, and if there was added an offence
+against domestic morality, he would be beaten at the polls as sure as the
+river ran.  He had seen Luzanne several times, and though he did not
+believe in her, he knew the marriage certificate was real.  He had no
+credence in Carnac's lack of honour, yet it was strange he had not fought
+his wife, if his case was a good one.
+
+Day by day he had felt Carnac's power growing, and he feared his triumph
+unless some sensation stopped it.  Well, he had at hand the sufficient
+sensation.  He would produce both the certificate of marriage and the
+French girl who was the legal wife of Carnac Grier.  That Luzanne was
+French helped greatly, for it would be used by Carnac's foes as an insult
+to French Canada, and his pulses throbbed as he thought of the possible
+turmoil in the constituency.
+
+Fortunately the girl was handsome, had ability, and spoke English with a
+French accent, and she was powerful for his purposes.  He was out to
+prevent his own son from driving himself into private life, and he would
+lose no trick in the game, if he could help it.
+
+Sentimental feeling--yes, he had it, but it did not prevent him from
+saving his own skin.  Carnac had come out against him, and he must hit as
+hard as he could.  It was not as though Carnac had been guilty of a real
+crime and was within the peril of the law.  His offence was a personal
+one, but it would need impossible defence at the moment of election.
+In any case, if Carnac was legally married, he should assume the
+responsibilities of married life; and if he had honest reason for not
+recognizing the marriage, he should stop the woman from pursuing him.
+If the case kept Carnac out of public life and himself in, then justice
+would be done; for it was monstrous that a veteran should be driven into
+obscurity by a boy.  In making his announcement he would be fighting his
+son as though he was a stranger and not of his own blood and bones.  He
+had no personal connection with Carnac in the people's minds.
+
+On the afternoon of the day that Junia had had her hour with Luzanne, he
+started for the house where Luzanne was lodging.  He could not travel the
+streets without being recognized, but it did not matter, for the house
+where the girl lodged was that of his sub agent, and he was safe in going
+to it.  He did not know, however, that Denzil had been told by Junia to
+watch the place and learn what he meant to do.
+
+Denzil had a popular respect of Barode Barouche as a Minister of the
+Crown; but he had a far greater love of Carnac.  He remained vigilant
+until after Junia and Luzanne had started in a cab for the railway-
+station.  They left near three-quarters of an hour before the train was
+to start for New York; and for the first quarter of an hour after they
+left, Denzil was in apprehension.
+
+Then he saw Barouche enter the street and go to the house of his sub-
+agent.  The house stood by itself, with windows open, and Denzil did
+not scruple to walk near it, and, if possible, listen.  Marmette, the
+subagent, would know of the incident between Junia and Luzanne; and
+he feared.  Barouche might start for the station, overtake Luzanne
+and prevent her leaving.  He drew close and kept his ears open.
+
+He was fortunate, he heard voices; Marmette was explaining to Barouche
+that Junia and Luzanne had gone to the station, as "Ma'm'selle" was bound
+for New York.  Marmette had sent word to M. Barouche by messenger, but
+the messenger had missed him.  Then he heard Barouche in anger say:
+
+"You fool--why did you let her leave!  It's my bread and butter--and
+yours too--that's at stake.  I wanted to use her against Grier.  She was
+my final weapon of attack.  How long ago did she leave?"  Marmette told
+him.
+
+Denzil saw Barode Barouche leave the house with grim concern and talking
+hard to Paul Marmette.  He knew the way they would go, so he fell behind
+a tree, and saw them start for the place where they could order a cab.
+Then he followed them.  Looking at his watch he saw that, if they got a
+cab, they would get to the station before the train started, and he
+wondered how he could retard Barouche.  A delay of three minutes would be
+enough, for it was a long way, and the distance could only be covered
+with good luck in the time.  Yet Denzil had hope, for his faith in Junia
+was great, and he felt sure she would do what she planned.  He had to
+trot along fast, because Barouche and Marmette were going hard, and he
+could not see his way to be of use yet.  He would give his right hand to
+help Carnac win against the danger Junia had suggested.  It could not be
+aught to Carnac's discredit, or Junia would not have tried to get the
+danger out of Montreal; he had seen Luzanne, and she might be deadly, if
+she had a good weapon!
+
+Presently, he saw Barouche and his agent stop at the door of a livery-
+stable, and were told that no cabs were available.  There were none in
+the street, and time was pressing.  Not far away, however, was a street
+with a tram-line, and this tram would take Barouche near the station from
+which Luzanne would start.  So Barouche made hard for this street and had
+reached it when a phaeton came along, and in it was one whom Barouche
+knew.  Barouche spoke to the occupant, and presently both men were
+admitted to the phaeton just as a tram-car came near.
+
+As the phaeton would make the distance to the station in less time than
+the car, this seemed the sensible thing to do, and Denzil's spirits fell.
+There remained enough time for Barouche to reach the station before the
+New York train started!  He got aboard the tram himself, and watched the
+phaeton moving quickly on ahead.  He saw the driver of the phaeton strike
+his horse with a whip, and the horse, suddenly breaking into a gallop,
+slipped and fell to the ground on the tramtrack.  A moment later the tram
+came to a stop behind the fallen horse, and Denzil saw the disturbed face
+of Barode Barouche looking for another trap--in any case, it would take
+three or four minutes to get the horse up and clear the track for the
+tram.  There was no carriage in sight--only a loaded butcher's cart,
+a road-cleaner, and a heavily loaded van.  These could be of no use to
+Barouche.
+
+In his corner, Denzil saw the play with anxious eyes.
+
+It was presently found that the horse had injured a leg in falling and
+could not be got to its feet, but had presently to be dragged from the
+tram-lines.  It had all taken near five minutes of the time before the
+train went, and, with despair, Barouche mounted the steps of the tram.
+He saw Denzil, and shrewdly suspected he was working in the interests of
+Carnac.  He came forward to Denzil.
+
+"You're a long way from home, little man," he said in a voice with an
+acid note.
+
+"About the same as you from home, m'sieu'," said Denzil.
+
+"I've got business everywhere in this town," remarked Barouche with
+sarcasm--"and you haven't, have you?  You're travelling privately, eh?"
+
+"I travel as m'sieu' travels, and on the same business," answered Denzil
+with a challenging smile.
+
+The look Barouche gave him then Denzil never forgot.  "I didn't know you
+were in politics, mon vieux!  What are you standing for?  When are you
+going to the polls--who are you fighting, eh?"
+
+"I'm fighting you, m'sieu', though I ain't in politics, and I'm going to
+the polls now," Denzil answered.  Denzil had gained in confidence as he
+saw the arrogance of Barode Barouche.  He spoke with more vigour than
+usual, and he felt his gorge rising, for here was a man trying to injure
+his political foe through a woman; and Denzil resented it.  He did not
+know the secret of Luzanne Larue, but he did realize there was conflict
+between Junia Shale and Barouche, and between Barouche and Carnac Grier,
+and that enlisted his cooperation.  By nature he was respectful; but the
+politician now was playing a dirty game, and he himself might fight
+without gloves, if needed.  That was why his eyes showed defiance at
+Barouche now.  He had said the thing which roused sharp anger in
+Barouche.  It told Barouche that Denzil knew where he was going and why.
+Anger shook him as he saw Denzil take out his watch.
+
+"The poll closes in three minutes, m'sieu'," Denzil added with a dry
+smile, for it was clear Barouche could not reach the station in time,
+if the train left promptly.  The swiftest horses could not get him there,
+and these were not the days of motor-cars.  Yet it was plain Barouche
+meant to stick to it, and he promptly said:
+
+"You haven't the right time, beetle.  The poll closes only when the train
+leaves, and your watch doesn't show that, so don't put on airs yet."
+
+"I'll put on airs if I've won, m'sieu'," Denzil answered quietly, for he
+saw people in the tram were trying to hear.
+
+Barouche had been recognized, and a murmur of cheering began, followed by
+a hum of disapproval, for Barouche had lost many friends since Carnac had
+come into the fray.  A few folk tried to engage Barouche in talk, but he
+responded casually; yet he smiled the smile which had done so much for
+him in public life, and the distance lessened to the station.  The tram
+did not go quite to the station, and as it stopped, the two men hurried
+to the doors.  As they did so, an engine gave a scream, and presently, as
+they reached the inside of the station, they saw passing out at the far
+end, the New York train.
+
+"She started five minutes late, but she did start," said Denzil, and
+there was malice in his smile.
+
+As he looked at his watch, he saw Junia passing out of a door into the
+street, but Barode Barouche did not see her--his eyes were fixed on the
+departing train.
+
+For a moment Barouche stood indecisive as to whether he should hire a
+locomotive and send some one after the train, and so get in touch with
+Luzanne in that way, or send her a telegram to the first station where
+the train would stop in its schedule; but presently he gave up both
+ideas.  As he turned towards the exit of the station, he saw Denzil, and
+he came forward.
+
+"I think you've won, mon petit chien," he said with vindictiveness, "but
+my poll comes to-morrow night, and I shall win."
+
+"No game is won till it's all played, m'sieu', and this innings is mine!"
+
+"I am fighting a bigger man than you, wasp," snarled Barouche.
+
+"As big as yourself and bigger, m'sieu'," said Denzil with a smile.
+
+There was that in his tone which made Barouche regard him closely.  He
+saw there was no real knowledge of the relationship of Carnac and himself
+in Denzil's eyes; but he held out his hand with imitation courtesy, as
+though to say good-bye.
+
+"Give me a love-clasp, spider," he said with a kind of sneer.  "I'd like
+your love as I travel to triumph."  A light of hatred came into Denzil's
+eyes.  "Beetledog--wasp--spider" he had been called by this big man--
+well, he should see that the wasp could give as good as it got.  His
+big gnarled hand enclosed the hand of Barode Barouche, then he suddenly
+closed on it tight.  He closed on it till he felt it crunching in his own
+and saw that the face of Barode Barouche was like that of one in a chair
+of torture.  He squeezed, till from Barouche's lips came a gasp of agony,
+and then he let go.
+
+"You've had my love-clasp, m'sieu'," Denzil said with meaning, "and when
+you want it again let me know.  It's what M'sieu' Carnac will do with you
+to-morrow night.  Only he'll not let go, as I did, before the blood
+comes.  Don't be hard on those under you, m'sieu'.  Remember wasps and
+spiders can sting in their own way, and that dogs can bite."
+
+"Little black beast," was the short reply, "I'll strip your hide for
+Hell's gridiron in good time."
+
+"Bien, m'sieu', but you'll be in hell waiting, for I'm going to bury you
+here where you call better men than yourself dogs and wasps and spiders
+and beetles.  And I'll not strip your 'hide,' either.  That's for lower
+men than me."
+
+A moment later they parted, Denzil to find Junia, and Barouche to prepare
+his speech for the evening.  Barouche pondered.  What should he do--
+should he challenge Carnac with his marriage with Luzanne Larue?  His
+heart was beating hard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+THE CHALLENGE
+
+The day of the election came.  Never had feeling run higher, never had
+racial lines been so cut across.  Barode Barouche fought with vigour, but
+from the going of Luzanne Larue, there passed from him the confidence he
+had felt since the first day of Carnac's candidature.  He had had
+temptation to announce to those who heard him the night before the poll
+what Luzanne had told; but better wisdom guided him, to his subsequent
+content.  He had not played a scurvy trick on his son for his own
+personal advantage.  Indeed, when his meetings were all over, he was
+thankful for the disappearance of Luzanne.  At heart he was not all bad.
+A madness had been on him.  He, therefore, slept heavily from midnight
+till morning on the eve of the election, and began the day with the smile
+of one who abides the result with courage.
+
+Several times he came upon Carnac in the streets, and they saluted
+courteously; yet he saw the confidence of Carnac in his bearing.  Twice
+also he came upon Junia and he was startled by the look she gave him.  It
+was part of his punishment that Junia was the source of his undoing where
+Luzanne was concerned.  Junia knew about Luzanne; but if she condemned
+him now, what would she think if she knew that Carnac was his own son!
+
+"A devilish clever girl that," he said to himself.  "If he wins, it'll be
+due to her, and if he wins--no, he can't marry her, for he's already
+married; but he'll owe it all to her.  If he wins!  .  .  .  No, he shall
+not win; I've been in the game too long; I've served too many interests;
+I've played too big a part."
+
+It was then he met his agent, who said: "They're making strong play
+against us--the strongest since you began politics."
+
+"Strong enough to put us in danger?" inquired Barouche.  "You've been
+at the game here for thirty years, and I'd like to know what you think--
+quite honestly."
+
+His agent was disturbed.  "I think you're in danger; he has all your
+gifts, and he's as clever as Old Nick besides.  He's a man that'll make
+things hum, if he gets in."
+
+"If he gets in-you think .  .  . ?"
+
+"He has as good a chance as you, m'sieu'.  Here's a list of doubtful
+ones, and you'll see they're of consequence."
+
+"They are indeed," said Barouche, scanning the list.  "I'd no idea these
+would be doubtful."
+
+"Luke Tarboe's working like the devil for Carnac.  People believe in him.
+Half the men on that list were affected by Tarboe's turning over.  Tarboe
+is a master-man; he has fought like hell."
+
+"Nevertheless, I've been too long at it to miss it now," said the rueful
+member with a forced smile.  "I must win now, or my game is up."
+
+The agent nodded, but there was no certainty in his eye.  Feeling ran
+higher and higher, but there was no indication that Barouche's hopes were
+sure of fulfilment.  His face became paler as the day wore on, and his
+hands freer with those of his late constituents.  Yet he noticed that
+Carnac was still glib with his tongue and freer with his hands.  Carnac
+seemed everywhere, on every corner, in every street, at every polling
+booth; he laid his trowel against every brick in the wall.  Carnac was
+not as confident as he seemed, but he was nearing the end of the trail;
+and his feet were free and his head clear.  One good thing had happened.
+The girl who could do him great harm was not in evidence, and it was too
+late to spoil his chances now, even if she came.  What gave him greatest
+hope was the look on Junia's face as he passed her.  It was the sign of
+the conqueror--something he could not under stand.  It was knowledge and
+victory.
+
+Also, he had a new feeling towards Tarboe, who had given him such
+powerful support.  There was, then, in the man the bigger thing, the
+light of fairness and reason!  He had had no talk with Tarboe, and he
+desired none, but he had seen him at three of his meetings, and he had
+evidence of arduous effort on his behalf.  Tarboe had influenced many
+people in his favour, men of standing and repute, and the workmen of
+the Grier firm had come, or were coming, his way.  He had always been
+popular with them, in spite of the strike he had fought, but they voted
+independently of their employers; and he was glad to know that most of
+them were with him in the fight.
+
+His triumph over Eugene Grandois at the Island had been a good influence,
+and he had hopes of capturing the majority of the river people.  Yet,
+strange to say, the Church had somewhat reversed its position, and at the
+last had swung round to Barouche, quietly, though not from the pulpit,
+supporting him.  The old prejudice in favour of a Catholic and a
+Frenchman was alive again.
+
+Carnac was keyed to anxiety, but outwardly seemed moving with brilliant
+certainty.  He walked on air, and he spoke and acted like one who had the
+key of the situation in his fingers, and the button of decision at his
+will.  It was folly electioneering on the day of the poll, and yet he saw
+a few labour leaders and moved them to greater work for him.  One of
+these told him that at the Grier big-mill was one man working to defeat
+him by personal attacks.  It had something to do with a so-called secret
+marriage, and it would be good to get hold of the man, Roudin, as soon as
+possible.
+
+A secret marriage!  So the thing had, after all, been bruited and used-
+what was the source of the information?  Who was responsible?  He must go
+to the mill at once, and he started for it.  On the way he met Luke
+Tarboe.
+
+"There's trouble down at the mill," Tarboe said.  "A fellow called Roudin
+has been spreading a story that you're married and repudiate your wife.
+It'd be good to fight it now before it gets going.  There's no truth in
+it, of course," he added with an opposite look in his eye, for he
+remembered the letter Carnac received one day in the office and his own
+conclusion then.
+
+"It's a lie, and I'll go and see Roudin at once.  .  .  .  You've been a
+good friend to me in the fight, Tarboe, and I'd like a talk when it's all
+over."
+
+"That'll be easy enough, Grier.  Don't make any mistake-this is a big
+thing you're doing; and if a Protestant Britisher can beat a Catholic
+Frenchman in his own habitant seat, it's the clinching of Confederation.
+We'll talk it over when you've won."
+
+"You think I'm going to win?" asked Carnac with thumping heart, for the
+stark uncertainty seemed to overpower him, though he smiled.
+
+"If the lie doesn't get going too hard, I'm sure you'll pull it off.
+There's my hand on it.  I'd go down with you to the mill, but you should
+go alone.  You've got your own medicine to give.  Go it alone, Grier.
+It's best--and good luck to you!"
+
+A few moments later Carnac was in the yard of the mill, and in one corner
+he saw the man he took to be Roudin talking to a group of workmen.  He
+hurried over, and heard Roudin declaring that he, Carnac, was secretly
+married to a woman whom he repudiated, and was that the kind of man to
+have as member of Parliament?  Presently Roudin was interrupted by cheers
+from supporters of Carnac, and he saw it was due to Carnac's arrival.
+Roudin had courage.  He would not say behind a man's back what he would
+not say to his face.
+
+"I was just telling my friends here, m'sieu', that you was married, and
+you didn't acknowledge your wife.  Is that so?"
+
+Carnac's first impulse was to say No, but he gained time by challenging.
+
+"Why do you say such things to injure me?  Is that what Monsieur Barouche
+tells you to say?"
+
+Roudin shook his head protestingly.
+
+"If Monsieur Barouche does that he oughtn't to hold the seat, he ought to
+be sent back to his law offices."
+
+"No, I didn't hear it from M'sieu' Barouche.  I get it from better hands
+than his," answered Roudin.
+
+"Better hands than his, eh?  From the lady herself, perhaps?"
+
+"Yes, from the lady herself, m'sieu'."
+
+"Then bring the lady here and let us have it out, monsieur.  It's a lie.
+Bring the lady here, if you know her."
+
+Roudin shrugged a shoulder.  "I know what I know, and I don't have to do
+what you say--no--no!"
+
+"Then you're not honest.  You do me harm by a story like that.  I
+challenge you, and you don't respond.  You say you know the woman, then
+produce her--there's no time to be lost.  The poll closes in four hours.
+If you make such statements, prove them.  It isn't playing the game--
+do you think so, messieurs?" he added to the crowd which had grown in
+numbers.  At that moment a man came running from the en trance towards
+Carnac.  It was Denzil.
+
+"A letter for you, an important letter," he kept crying as he came
+nearer.  He got the letter into Carnac's hands.
+
+"Read it at once, m'sieu'," Denzil said urgently.  Carnac saw the
+handwriting was Junia's, and he tore open the letter, which held the blue
+certificate of the marriage with Luzanne.  He conquered the sudden
+dimness of his eyes, and read the letter.  It said:
+
+     DEAR CARNAC,
+
+     I hear from Mr. Tarboe of the lies being told against you.  Here is
+     the proof.  She has gone.  She told it to Barode Barouche, and he
+     was to have announced it last night, but I saw her first.  You can
+     now deny the story.  The game is yours.  Tell the man Roudin to
+     produce the woman--she is now in New York, if the train was not
+     lost.  I will tell you all when you are M.P.
+                                                       JUNIA.
+
+With a smile, Carnac placed the certificate in his pocket.  How lucky it
+was he had denied the marriage and demanded that Roudin produce the
+woman!  He was safe now, safe and free.  It was no good any woman
+declaring she was married to him if she could not produce the proof
+--and the proof was in his pocket and the woman was in New York.
+
+"Come, Monsieur Roudin, tell us about the woman, and bring her to the
+polls.  There is yet time, if you're telling the truth.  Who is she?
+Where does she live?  What's her name?"
+
+"Mrs. Carnac Grier--that's her name," responded Roudin with a snarl, and
+the crowd laughed, for Carnac's boldness gave them a sense of security.
+
+"What was her maiden name?"
+
+"Larue," answered the other sharply.
+
+"What was her Christian name, since you know so much, monsieur?"
+
+He had no fear now, and his question was audacity, but he knew the game
+was with him, and he took the risks.  His courage had reward, for Roudin
+made no reply.  Carnac turned to the crowd.
+
+"Here's a man tried to ruin my character by telling a story about a woman
+whose name he doesn't know.  Is that playing the game after the rules--
+I ask you?"
+
+There were cries from the crowd supporting him, and he grew bolder.
+"Let the man tell his story and I'll meet it here face to face.  I fear
+nothing.  Out with your story, monsieur.  Tell us why you haven't brought
+her into the daylight, why she isn't claiming her husband at the polls.
+What's the story?  Let's have it now."
+
+The truth was, Roudin dared not tell what he knew.  It was based wholly
+on a talk he had partly overheard between Barode Barouche and Luzanne in
+the house where she stayed and where he, Roudin, lodged.  It had not been
+definite, and he had no proofs.  He was a sensationalist, and he had had
+his hour and could say no more, because of Barode Barouche.  He could not
+tell the story of his overhearing, for why had not Barouche told the
+tale?  With an oath he turned away and disappeared.  As he went he could
+hear his friends cheering Carnac.
+
+"Carnac Grier lies, but he wins the game," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+EXIT
+
+"Grier's in--Carnac's in--Carnac's got the seat!"  This was the cry heard
+in the streets at ten-thirty at night when Carnac was found elected by a
+majority of one hundred and ten.
+
+Carnac had not been present at the counting of the votes until the last
+quarter-hour, and then he was told by his friends of the fluctuations of
+the counting--how at one time his defeat seemed assured, since Barode
+Barouche was six hundred ahead, and his own friends had almost given up
+hope.  One of his foes, however, had no assurance of Carnac's defeat.  He
+was too old an agent to believe in returns till all were in, and he knew
+of the two incidents by which Carnac had got advantage--at the Island
+over Eugene Grandois, and at the Mill over Roudin the very day of
+polling; and it was at these points he had hoped to score for Barouche
+a majority.  He watched Barouche, and he deplored the triumph in his eye,
+for there was no surety of winning; his own was the scientific mind
+without emotions or passions.  He did not "enthuse," and he did not
+despair; he kept his head.
+
+Presently there were fluctuations in favour of Carnac, and the six
+hundred by which Barouche led were steadily swallowed up; he saw that
+among the places which gave Carnac a majority were the Island and the
+Mill.  He was also nonplussed by Carnac's coolness.  For a man with an
+artist's temperament, he was well controlled.  When he came into the
+room, he went straight to Barouche and shook hands with him, saying
+they'd soon offer congratulations to the winner.  As the meeting took
+place the agent did not fail to note how alike in build and manner were
+the two men, how similar were their gestures.
+
+When at last the Returning Officer announced the result, the agent dared
+not glance at his defeated chief.  Yet he saw him go to Carnac and offer
+a hand.
+
+"We've had a straight fight, Grier, and I hope you'll have luck in
+Parliament.  This is no place for me.  It's your game, and I'll eat my
+sour bread alone."
+
+He motioned to the window with a balcony, beyond which were the shouting
+thousands.  Then he smiled at Carnac, and in his heart he was glad he had
+not used the facts about Luzanne before the public.  The boy's face was
+so glowing that his own youth came back, and a better spirit took
+residence in him.  He gave thanks to the Returning Officer, and then,
+with his agent, left the building by the back door.  He did not wait for
+the announcement of Carnac's triumph, and he knew his work was done for
+ever in public life.
+
+Soon he had said his say at the club where his supporters, discomfited,
+awaited him.  To demands for a speech, he said he owed to his workers
+what he could never repay, and that the long years they had kept him in
+Parliament would be the happiest memory of his life.
+
+"We'll soon have you back," shouted a voice from the crowd.
+
+"It's been a good fight," said Barode Barouche.  Somehow the fact he had
+not beaten his son by the story of his secret marriage was the sole
+comfort he had.  He advised his followers to "play the game" and let the
+new member have his triumph without belittlement.
+
+"It's the best fight I've had in thirty years," he said at last, "and
+I've been beaten fairly."
+
+In another hour he was driving into the country on his way to visit an
+old ex-Cabinet Minister, who had been his friend through all the years
+of his Parliamentary life.  It did not matter that the hour was late.
+He knew the veteran would be waiting for him, and unprepared for the bad
+news he brought.  The night was spent in pain of mind, and the comfort
+the ex-Minister gave him, that a seat would be found for him by the
+Government, gave him no thrill.  He knew he had enemies in the
+Government, that the Prime Minister was the friend of the successful
+only, and that there were others, glad of his defeat, who would be
+looking for his place.  Also he was sure he had injured the chances
+of the Government by the defeat of his policy.
+
+As though Creation was in league against him, a heavy storm broke about
+two o'clock, and he went to bed cursed by torturing thoughts.  "Chickens
+come home to roost--"  Why did that ancient phrase keep ringing in his
+ears when he tried to sleep?  Beaten by his illegitimate son at the
+polls, the victim of his own wrong-doing--the sacrifice of penalty!
+He knew that his son, inheriting his own political gifts, had done what
+could have been done by no one else.  All the years passed since Carnac
+was begotten laid their deathly hands upon him, and he knew he could
+never recover from this defeat.  How much better it would have been if he
+had been struck twenty-seven years ago!
+
+Youth, ambition and resolve would have saved him from the worst then.
+Age has its powers, but it has its defects, and he had no hope that his
+own defects would be wiped out by luck at the polls.  Spirit was gone out
+of him, longing for the future had no place in his mind; in the world of
+public work he was dead and buried.  How little he had got from all his
+life!  How few friends he had, and how few he was entitled to have!  This
+is one of the punishments that selfishness and wrong-doing brings; it
+gives no insurance for the hours of defeat and loss.  Well, wealth and
+power, the friends so needed in dark days, had not been made, and Barode
+Barouche realized he had naught left.  He had been too successful from
+the start; he had had all his own way; and he had taken no pains to make
+or keep friends.  He well knew there was no man in the Cabinet or among
+his colleagues that would stir to help him--he had stirred to help no man
+in all the years he had served the public.  It was no good only to serve
+the public, for democracy is a weak stick on which to lean.  One must
+stand by individuals or there is no defence against the malicious foes
+that follow the path of defeat, that ambush the way.  It is the personal
+friends made in one's own good days that watch the path and clear away
+the ambushers.  It is not big influential friends that are so important
+--the little unknown man may be as useful as the big boss in the mill of
+life; and if one stops to measure one's friends by their position, the
+end is no more sure than if one makes no friends at all.
+
+"There's nothing left for me in life--nothing at all," he said as he
+tossed in bed while the thunder roared and the storm beat down the
+shrubs.  "How futile life is--'Youth's a dream, middle age a delusion,
+old age a mistake!'" he kept repeating to himself in quotation.  "What
+does one get out of it?  Nothing--nothing--nothing!  It's all a poor show
+at the best, and yet--is it?  Is it all so bad?  Is it all so poor and
+gaunt and hopeless?  Isn't there anything in it for the man who gives and
+does his best?"
+
+Suddenly there came upon him the conviction that life is only futile to
+the futile, that it is only a failure to those who prove themselves
+incompetent, selfish and sordid; but to those who live life as it ought
+to be lived, there is no such thing as failure, or defeat, or penalty,
+or remorse or punishment.  Because the straight man has only good ends to
+serve, he has no failures; though he may have disappointments, he has no
+defeats; for the true secret of life is to be content with what is
+decreed, to earn bread and make store only as conscience directs, and not
+to set one's heart on material things.
+
+He got out of bed soon after daylight, dressed, and went to the stable
+and hitched his horse to the buggy.  The world was washed clean, that was
+sure.  It was muddy under foot, but it was a country where the roads soon
+dried, and he would suffer little inconvenience from the storm.  He bade
+his host good-bye and drove away intent to reach the city in time for
+breakfast.  He found the roads heavy, and the injury of the storm was
+everywhere to be seen.  Yet it all did not distract him, for he was
+thinking hard of the things that lay ahead of him to do--the heart-
+breaking things that his defeat meant to him.
+
+At last he approached a bridge across a stream which had been badly swept
+by the storm.  It was one of the covered bridges not uncommon in Canada.
+It was not long, as the river was narrow, and he did not see that the
+middle pier of the bridge had been badly injured.  Yet as he entered the
+bridge, his horse still trotting, he was conscious of a hollow, semi-
+thunderous noise which seemed not to belong to the horse's hoofs and the
+iron wheels of the carriage.  He raised his eyes to see that the other
+end of the bridge was clear, and at that moment he was conscious of an
+unsteady motion of the bridge, of a wavering of the roof, and then,
+before he had time to do aught, he saw the roof and the sides and the
+floor of the bridge collapse and sink slowly down.
+
+With a cry, he sprang from the carriage to retrace his way; but he only
+climbed up a ladder that grew every instant steeper; and all at once he
+was plunged downwards after his horse and carriage into the stream.  He
+could swim, and as he swept down this thought came to him--that he might
+be able to get the shore, as he heard the cries of people on the bank.
+It was a hope that died at the moment of its birth, however, for he was
+struck by a falling timber on the head.
+
+When, an hour later, he was found in an eddy of the river by the shore,
+he was dead, and his finders could only compose his limbs decently.  But
+in the afternoon, the papers of Montreal had the following head-lines;
+
+DEFEAT AND DEATH OF BARODE BAROUCHE THE END OF A LONG AND GREAT CAREER
+
+As soon as Carnac Grier heard the news, he sent a note to his mother
+telling her all he knew.  When she read the letter, she sank to the
+floor, overcome.  Her son had triumphed indeed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+A WOMAN WRITES A LETTER
+
+The whole country rang with the defeat and death of Barode Barouche,
+and the triumph of the disinherited son of John Grier.  Newspapers drew
+differing lessons from the event, but all admitted that Carnac, as a
+great fighter, was entitled to success.  The Press were friendly to the
+memory of Barode Barouche, and some unduly praised his work, and only a
+few disparaged his career.
+
+When news of the tragedy came to Mrs. Grier, she was reading in the
+papers of Carnac's victory, and in her mind was an agonizing triumph,
+pride in a stern blow struck for punishment.  The event was like none
+she could have imagined.
+
+It was at this moment the note came from Carnac telling of Barouche's
+death, and it dropped from her hand to the floor.  The horror of it smote
+her being, and, like one struck by lightning, she sank to the floor
+unconscious.  The thing had hit her where soul and body were closely
+knit; and she had realized for the first time how we all must pay to the
+last penny for every offence we commit against the laws of life and
+nature.  Barode Barouche had paid and she must pay--she also who had
+sinned with him must pay.  But had she not paid?
+
+For long she lay unconscious, but at last the servant, unknowing why she
+was not called to remove the breakfast things, found her huddled on the
+floor, her face like that of death.  The servant felt her heart, saw she
+was alive, and worked with her till consciousness came back.
+
+"That's right, ma'am, keep up heart.  I'll send for M'sieu' Carnac at
+once, and we'll have you all right pretty quick."
+
+But Mrs. Grier forbade Carnac to be sent for, and presently in her bed,
+declined to have the doctor brought.  "It's no use," she said.  "A doctor
+can do no good.  I need rest, that's all."
+
+Then she asked for notepaper and pen and ink, and so she was left alone.
+She must tell her beloved son why it was there never had been, and never
+could be, understanding between John Grier and himself.  She had arrived
+at that point where naught was to be gained by further concealment.  So
+through long hours she struggled with her problem, and she was glad
+Carnac did not come during the vexing day.  He had said when he sent her
+word of his victory, that he feared he would not be able to see her the
+next day at all, as he had so much to do.  She even declined to see Junia
+when she came, sending word that she was in bed, indisposed.
+
+The letter she wrote ran thus:
+
+     MY BELOVED CARNAC,
+
+     Your news of the death of Barode Barouche has shocked me.  You will
+     understand when I tell you I have lived a life of agony ever since
+     you became a candidate.  This is why: you were fighting the man who
+     gave you to the world.
+
+     Let me tell you how.  I loved John Grier when I married him, and
+     longed to make my life fit in with his.  But that could not easily
+     be, for his life was wedded to his business, and he did not believe
+     in women.  To him they were incapable of the real business of life,
+     and were only meant to be housekeepers to men who make the world go
+     round.  So, unintentionally, he neglected me, and I was young and
+     comely then, so the world said, and I was unwise and thoughtless.
+
+     Else, I should not have listened to Barode Barouche, who, one summer
+     in camp on the St. Lawrence River near our camp, opened up for me
+     new ways of thought, and springs of feeling.  He had the gifts that
+     have made you what you are, a figure that all turn twice to see.  He
+     had eloquence, he was thoughtful in all the little things which John
+     Grier despised.  In the solitude of the camp he wound himself about
+     my life, and roused an emotion for him false to duty.  And so one
+     day--one single day, for never but the once was I weak, yet that was
+     enough, God knows.  .  .  .  He went away because I would not see
+     him again; because I would not repeat the offence which gave me
+     years of sorrow and remorse.
+
+     After you became a candidate, he came and offered to marry me, tried
+     to reopen the old emotion; but I would have none of it.  He was
+     convinced he would defeat you, and he wanted to avoid fighting you.
+     But when I said, 'Give up the seat to him,' he froze.  Of course,
+     his seat belonged to his party and not alone to himself; but that
+     was the test I put him to, and the answer he gave was, 'You want me
+     to destroy my career in politics!  That is your proposal, is it?'
+     He was not honest either in life or conduct.  I don't think he ever
+     was sorry for me or for you, until perhaps these last few weeks; but
+     I have sorrowed ever since the day you came to me  very day, every
+     hour, every minute; and the more because I could not tell John Grier
+     the truth.
+
+     Perhaps I ought to have told the truth long ago, and faced the
+     consequences.  It might seem now that I would have ruined my home
+     life, and yours, and Barode Barouche's, and John Grier's life if I
+     had told the truth; but who knows!  There are many outcomes to
+     life's tragedies, and none might have been what I fancied.  It is
+     little comfort that Barode Barouche has now given all for payment of
+     his debt.  It gives no peace of mind.  And it may be you will think
+     I ought not to tell you the truth.  I don't know, but I feel you
+     will not misunderstand.  I tell you my story, so that you may again
+     consider if it is not better to face the world with the truth about
+     Luzanne.  We can live but once, and it is to our good if we refuse
+     the secret way.  It is right you should know the truth about your
+     birth, but it is not right you should declare it to all the world
+     now.  That was my duty long ago, and I did not do it.  It is not
+     your duty, and you must not do it.  Barode Barouche is gone; John
+     Grier has gone; and it would only hurt Fabian and his wife and you
+     to tell it now.  You inherit Barode Barouche's gifts, and you have
+     his seat, you represent his people--and they are your people too.
+     You have French blood in your veins, and you have a chance to carry
+     on with honour what he did with skill.  Forgive me, if you can.
+
+                              Your loving
+
+                                             MOTHER.
+
+     P.S.  Do nothing till you see me.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+CARNAL AND HIS MOTHER
+
+Returning from Barode Barouche's home to his mother's House on the Hill,
+Carnac was in a cheerless mood.  With Barouche's death to Carnac it was
+as though he himself had put aside for ever the armour of war, for
+Barouche was the only man in the world who had ever tempted him to fight,
+or whom he had fought.
+
+There was one thing he must do: he must go to Junia, tell her he loved
+her, and ask her to be his wife.  She had given him the fatal blue
+certificate of his marriage and the marriage could now be ended with
+Luzanne's consent, for she would not fight the divorce he must win soon.
+He could now tell the truth, if need be, to his constituents, for there
+would be time enough to recover his position, if it were endangered,
+before the next election came, and Junia would be by his side to help
+him!  Junia--would she, after all, marry him now?  He would soon know.
+To-night he must spend with his mother, but to-morrow he would see Junia
+and learn his fate, and know about Luzanne.  Luzanne had been in
+Montreal, had been ready to destroy his chance at the polls, and Junia
+had stopped it.  How?  Well, he should soon know.  But now, at first,
+for his mother.
+
+When he entered the House on the Hill, he had a sudden shiver.  Somehow,
+the room where his mother had sat for so many years, and where he had
+last seen his father, John Grier, had a coldness of the tomb.  There was
+a letter on the centre table standing against the lamp.  He saw it was in
+his mother's handwriting, and addressed to himself.
+
+He tore it open, and began to read.  Presently his cheeks turned pale.
+More than once he put it down, for it seemed impossible to go on, but
+with courage he took it up again and read on to the end.
+
+"God--God in Heaven!" he broke out when he had finished it.  For a long
+time he walked the floor, trembling in body and shaking in spirit.  "Now
+I understand everything," he said at last aloud in a husky tone.  "Now I
+see what I could not see--ah yes, I see at last!"
+
+For another time of silence and turmoil he paced the floor, then he
+stopped short.  "I'm glad they both are dead," he said wearily.  Thinking
+of Barode Barouche, he had a great bitterness.  "To treat any woman so--
+how glad I am I fought him!  He learned that such vile acts come home at
+last."
+
+Then he thought of John Grier.  "I loathed him and loved him always," he
+said with terrible remorse in his tone.  "He used my mother badly, and
+yet he was himself; he was the soul that he was born, a genius in his own
+way, a neglecter of all that makes life beautiful--and yet himself,
+always himself.  He never pottered.  He was real--a pirate, a plunderer,
+but he was real.  And he cared for me, and would have had me in the
+business if he could.  Perhaps John Grier knows the truth now!  .  .  .
+I hope he does.  For, if he does, he'll see that I was not to blame for
+what I did, that it was Fate behind me.  He was a big man, and if I'd
+worked with him, we'd have done big things, bigger than he did, and that
+was big enough."
+
+"Do nothing till you see me," his mother had written in a postscript to
+her letter, and, with a moroseness at his heart and scorn of Barouche at
+his lips, he went slowly up to his mother's room.  At her door he paused.
+But the woman was his mother, and it must be faced.  After all, she had
+kept faith ever since he was born.  He believed that.  She had been an
+honest wife ever since that fatal summer twenty-seven years before.
+
+"She has suffered," he said, and knocked at her door.  An instant later
+he was inside the room.  There was only a dim light, but his mother was
+sitting up in her bed, a gaunt and yet beautiful, sad-eyed figure of a
+woman.  For a moment Carnac paused.  As he stood motionless, the face of
+the woman became more drawn and haggard, the eyes more deeply mournful.
+Her lips opened as though she would speak, but no sound came, and Carnac
+could hardly bear to look at her.  Yet he did look, and all at once there
+rushed into his heart the love he had ever felt for her.  After all, he
+was her son, and she had not wronged him since his birth.  And he who had
+wronged her and himself was dead, his pathway closed for ever to the
+deeds of life and time.  As he looked, his eyes filled with tears and his
+lips compressed.  At last he came to the bed.  Her letter was in his
+hand.
+
+"I have read it, mother."
+
+She made no reply, but his face was good for her eyes to see.  It had no
+hatred or repulsion.
+
+"I know everything now," he added.  "I see it all, and I understand all
+you have suffered these many years."
+
+"Oh, my son, you forgive your mother?"  She was trembling with emotion.
+
+He leaned over and caught her wonderful head to his shoulder.  "I love
+you, mother," he said gently.  "I need you--need you more than I ever
+did."
+
+"I have no heart any more, and I fear for you--"
+
+"Why should you fear for me?  You wanted me to beat him, didn't you?"
+His face grew hard, his lips became scornful.  "Wasn't it the only way to
+make him settle his account?"
+
+"Yes, the only way.  It was not that I fear for you in politics.  I was
+sure you would win the election.  It was not that, it was the girl."
+
+"That's all finished.  I am free at last," he said.  He held the blue
+certificate before her eyes.
+
+Her face was deadly pale, her eyes expanded, her breath came sharp and
+quick.  "How was it don how was it done?  Was she here in Montreal?"
+
+"I don't know how it was done, but she was here, and Junia got this from
+her.  I shan't know how till I've seen Junia."
+
+"Junia is the best friend," said the stricken woman gently, "in all the
+world; she's--"
+
+"She's so good a friend she must be told the truth," he said firmly.
+
+"Oh, not while I live!  I could not bear that--"
+
+"How could I ask Junia to marry me and not tell her all the truth--
+mother, can't you see?"
+
+The woman's face flushed scarlet.  "Ah, yes, I see, my boy--I see."
+
+"Haven't we had enough of secrecy--in your letter you lamented it!  If it
+was right for you to be secret all these years, is it not a hundred times
+right now for me to tell you the truth.  .  .  .  I have no name--no
+name," he added, tragedy in his tone.
+
+"You have my name.  You may say I have no right to it, but it is the only
+name I can carry; they both are dead, and I must keep it.  It wrongs no
+one living but you, and you have no hatred of me: you think I do not
+wrong you--isn't that so?"
+
+His cheek was hot with feeling.  "Yes, that's true," he said.  "You must
+still keep your married name."  Then a great melancholy took hold of him,
+and he could hardly hide it from her.  She saw how he was moved, and she
+tried to comfort him.
+
+"You think Junia will resent it all?  .  .  .  But that isn't what a girl
+does when she loves.  You have done no wrong; your hands are clean."
+
+"But I must tell her all.  Tarboe is richer, he has an honest birth, he
+is a big man and will be bigger still.  She likes him, she--"
+
+"She will go to you without a penny, my son."
+
+"It will be almost without a penny, if you don't live," he said with a
+faint smile.  "I can't paint--for a time anyhow.  I can't earn money for
+a time.  I've only my salary as a Member of Parliament and the little
+that's left of my legacy; therefore, I must draw on you.  And I don't
+seem to mind drawing upon you; I never did."
+
+She smiled with an effort.  "If I can help you, I shall justify living
+on."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+TARBOE HAS A DREAM
+
+The day Carnac was elected it was clear to Tarboe that he must win Junia
+at once, if he was ever to do so, for Carnac's new honours would play a
+great part in influencing her.  In his mind, it was now or never for
+himself; he must bring affairs to a crisis.
+
+Junia's father was poor, but the girl had given their home an air of
+comfort and an art belonging to larger spheres.  The walls were covered
+with brown paper, and on it were a few of her own water-colour drawings,
+and a few old engravings of merit.  Chintz was the cover on windows and
+easy chairs, and in a corner of the parlour was a chintz-covered lounge
+where she read of an evening.  So it was that, with Carnac elected and
+Barode Barouche buried, she sat with one of Disraeli's novels in her hand
+busy with the future.  She saw for Carnac a safe career, for his two
+chief foes were gone--Luzanne Larue and Barode Barouche.  Now she
+understood why Carnac had never asked her to be his wife.  She had had no
+word with Carnac since his election--only a letter to thank her for the
+marriage certificate and to say that after M. Barouche was buried he
+would come to her, if he might.  He did say, however, in the letter that
+he owed her his election.
+
+"You've done a great, big thing for me, dearest friend, and I am your
+ever grateful Carnac"--that was the way he had put it.  Twice she had
+gone to visit his mother, and had been told that Mrs. Grier was too ill
+to see her--overstrain, the servant had said.  She could not understand
+being denied admittance; but it did not matter, for one day Mrs. Grier
+should know how she--Junia-had saved her son's career.
+
+So she thought, as she gazed before her into space from the chintz-
+covered lounge on the night of the day Barode Barouche was buried.  There
+was a smell of roses in the room.  She had gathered many of them that
+afternoon.  She caught a bud from a bunch on a table, and fastened it in
+the bosom of her dress.  Somehow, as she did it, she had a feeling she
+would like to clasp a man's head to her breast where the rose was--one
+of those wild thoughts that come to the sanest woman at times.  She was
+captured by the excitement in which she had moved during the past month
+--far more now than she had been in all the fight itself.
+
+There came a knock at the outer door, and before that of her own room
+opened, she recognized the step of the visitor.  So it was Tarboe had
+come.  He remembered that day in the street when he met Junia, and was
+shown there were times when a woman could not be approached with emotion.
+He had waited till the day he knew she was alone, for he had made a
+friend of her servant by judicious gifts of money.
+
+"I hope you're glad to see me," he said with an uncertain smile, as he
+saw her surprise.
+
+"I hope I am," she replied, and motioned him to a seat.  He chose a high-
+backed chair with a wide seat near the lounge.  He made a motion of
+humorous dissent to her remark, and sat down.
+
+"Well, we pulled it off somehow, didn't we?" she said.  "Carnac Grier is
+M.P."
+
+"And his foe is in his grave," remarked Tarboe dryly.  "Providence pays
+debts that ought to be paid.  This election has settled a lot of things,"
+she returned with a smile.
+
+"I suppose it has, and I've come here to try and find one of the
+settlements."
+
+"Well, find them," she retorted.
+
+"I said one of the settlements only.  I have to be accurate in my life."
+
+"I'm glad to hear of it.  You helped Mr. Grier win his election.  It was
+splendid of you.  Think of it, Mr. Tarboe, Carnac Grier is beginning to
+get even with his foes."
+
+"I'm not a foe--if that's what you mean.  I've proved it."
+
+She smiled provokingly.  "You've proved only you're not an absolute
+devil, that's all.  You've not proved yourself a real man--not yet.  Do
+you think it paid your debt to Carnac Grier that you helped get him into
+Parliament?"
+
+His face became a little heated.  "I'll prove to you and to the world
+that I'm not an absolute devil in the Grier interests.  I didn't steal
+the property.  I tried to induce John Grier to leave it to Carnac or his
+mother, for if he'd left it to Mrs. Grier it would have come to Carnac.
+He did not do it that way, though.  He left it to me.  Was I to blame for
+that?"
+
+"Perhaps not, but you could have taken Carnac in, or given up the
+property to him--the rightful owner.  You could have done that.
+But you were thinking of yourself altogether."
+
+"Not altogether.  In the first place, I am bound to keep my word to John
+Grier.  Besides, if Carnac had inherited, the property would have got
+into difficulties--there were things only John Grier and I understood,
+and Carnac would have been floored."
+
+"Wouldn't you still have been there?"
+
+"Who knows!  Who can tell!  Maybe not!"
+
+"Carnac Grier is a very able man."
+
+"But of the ablest.  He'll be a success in Parliament.  He'll play a big
+part; he won't puddle about.  I meant there was a risk in letting Carnac
+run the business at the moment, and--"
+
+"And there never was with you!"
+
+"None.  My mind had grasped all John Grier intended, and I have the
+business at my fingers' ends.  There was no risk with me.  I've proved
+it.  I've added five per cent to the value of the business since John
+Grier died.  I can double the value of it in twenty years--and easy at
+that."
+
+"If you make up your mind to do it, you will," she said with admiration,
+for the man was persuasive, and he was playing a game in which he was a
+master.
+
+Her remarks were alive with banter, for Tarboe's humour was a happiness
+to her.
+
+"How did I buy your approval?" he questioned alertly.
+
+"By ability to put a bad case in a good light.  You had your case, and
+you have made a real success.  If you keep on you may become a Member of
+Parliament some day!"
+
+He laughed.  "Your gifts have their own way of stinging.  I don't believe
+I could be elected to Parliament.  I haven't the trick of popularity of
+that kind."
+
+Many thoughts flashed through Tarboe's mind.  If he married her now, and
+the truth was told about the wills and the law gave Carnac his rights,
+she might hate him for not having told her when he proposed.  So it was
+that in his desire for her life as his own, he now determined there
+should be no second will.  In any case, Carnac had enough to live on
+through his mother.  Also, he had capacity to support himself.  There was
+a touch of ruthlessness in Tarboe.  No one would ever guess what the
+second will contained--no one.  The bank would have a letter saying where
+the will was to be found, but if it was not there!
+
+He would ask Junia to be his wife now, while she was so friendly.  Her
+eyes were shining, her face was alive with feeling, and he was aware that
+the best chances of his life had come to win her.  If she was not now in
+the hands of Carnac, his chances were good.  Yet there was the tale of
+the secret marriage--the letter he saw Carnac receive in John Grier's
+office!  The words of the ancient Greek came to him as he looked at her:
+"He who will not strike when the hour comes shall wither like a flower,
+and his end be that of the chaff of the field."
+
+His face flushed with feeling, his eyes grew bright with longing, his
+tongue was loosed to the enterprise.  "Do you dream, and remember your
+dreams?" he asked with a thrill in his voice.  "Do you?"
+
+"I don't dream often, but I sometimes remember my dreams."
+
+"I dream much, and one dream I have constantly."
+
+"What is it?" she asked with anticipation.
+
+"It is the capture of a wild bird in a garden--in a cultivated garden
+where there are no nests, no coverts for the secret invaders.  I dream
+that I pursue the bird from flower-bed to flower-bed, from bush to bush,
+along paths and the green-covered walls; and I am not alone in my chase,
+for there are others pursuing.  It is a bitter struggle to win the wild
+thing.  And why?  Because there is pursuing one of the pursuers another
+bird of red plumage.  Do you understand?"
+
+He paused, and saw her face was full of colour and her eyes had a glow.
+Every nerve in her was pulsing hard.
+
+"Tell me," she said presently, "whom do you mean by the bird of red
+plumage?  Is it a mere figure of speech?  Or has it a real meaning?"
+
+"It has a real meaning."
+
+He rose to his feet, bent over her and spoke hotly.  "Junia, the end of
+my waiting has come.  I want you as I never wanted anything in my life.
+I must know the truth.  I love you, Junia.  I have loved you from the
+first moment I saw you, and nothing is worth while with you not in it.
+Let us work together.  It is a big, big game I'm playing."
+
+"Yes, it's a big game you're playing," she said with emotion.  "It is a
+big, big game, and, all things considered, you should win it, but I doubt
+you will.  I feel there are matters bigger than the game, or than you, or
+me, or anyone else.  And I do not believe in your bird of red plumage; I
+don't believe it exists.  It may have done so, but it doesn't now."
+
+She also got to her feet, and Tarboe was so near her she could feel his
+hot breath on her cheek.
+
+"No, it doesn't exist now," she repeated, "and the pursuer is not
+pursued.  You have more imagination than belongs to a mere man of
+business--you're an inexperienced poet."
+
+He caught her hand and drew it to his breast.  "The only poetry I know is
+the sound of your voice in the wind, the laughter of your lips in the
+sun, the delight of your body in the heavenly flowers.  Yes, I've drunk
+you in the wild woods; I've trailed you on the river; I've heard you in
+the grinding storm--always the same, the soul of all beautiful things.
+Junia, you shall not put me away from you.  You shall be mine, and
+you and I together shall win our way to great ends.  We will have
+opportunity, health, wealth and prosperity.  Isn't it worth while?"
+
+"Yes," she answered after a moment, "but it cannot be with you, my
+friend."
+
+She withdrew her fingers and stepped back; she made a gesture of friendly
+repulsion.  "You have said all that can be said, you have gifts greater
+than you yourself believe; and I have been tempted; but it is no use,
+there are deeper things than luxuries and the magazines of merchandise--
+much deeper.  No, no, I cannot marry you; if you were as rich as Midas,
+as powerful as Caesar, I would not marry you--never, never, never."
+
+"You love another," he said boldly.  "You love Carnac Grier."
+
+"I do not love you--isn't that enough?"
+
+"Almost--almost enough," he said, embarrassed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+THIS WAY HOME
+
+All Junia had ever felt of the soul of things was upon her as she
+arranged flowers and listened to the church bells ringing.
+
+"They seem to be always ringing," she said to herself, as she lightly
+touched the roses.  "It must be a Saint's Day--where's Denzil?  Ah, there
+he is in the garden!  I'll ask him."
+
+Truth is, she was deceiving herself.  She wanted to talk with Denzil
+about all that had happened of late, and he seemed, somehow, to avoid
+her.  Perhaps he feared she had given her promise to Tarboe who had, as
+Denzil knew, spent an hour with her the night before.  As this came to
+Denzil's brain, he felt a shiver go through him.  Just then he heard
+Junia's footsteps, and saw her coming towards him.
+
+"Why are the bells ringing so much, Denzil?  Is it a Saint's Day?" she
+asked.
+
+He took off his hat.  "Yes, ma'm'selle, it is a Saint's Day," and he
+named it.  "There were lots of neighbours at early Mass, and some have
+gone to the Church of St. Anne de Beaupre at Beaupre, them that's got
+sickness."
+
+"Yes, Beaupre is as good as Lourdes, I'm sure.  Why didn't you go,
+Denzil?"
+
+"Why should I go, ma'm'selle--I ain't sick--ah, bah!"
+
+"I thought you were.  You've been in low spirits ever since our election,
+Denzil."
+
+"Nothing strange in that, ma'm'selle.  I've been thinking of him that's
+gone."
+
+"You mean Monsieur Barouche, eh?"
+
+"Not of M'sieu' Barouche, but of the father to the man that beat M'sieu'
+Barouche."
+
+"Why should you be thinking so much of John Grier these days?"
+
+"Isn't it the right time?  His son that he threw off without a penny has
+proved himself as big a man as his father--ah, surelee!  M'sieu' left
+behind him a will that gave all he had to a stranger.  His own son was
+left without a sou.  There he is now," he added, nodding towards the
+street.
+
+Junia saw Carnac making his way towards her house.  "Well, I'll talk with
+him," she said, and her face flushed.  She knew she must give account of
+her doings with Luzanne Larue.
+
+A few moments later in the house, her hand lay in that of Carnac, and his
+eyes met hers.
+
+"It's all come our way, Junia," he remarked gaily, though there was
+sadness in his tone.
+
+"It's as you wanted it.  You won."
+
+"Thanks to you, Junia," and he took from his pocket the blue certificate.
+
+"That--oh, that was not easy to get," she said with agitation.  "She had
+a bad purpose, that girl."
+
+"She meant to announce it?"
+
+"Yes, through Barode Barouche.  He agreed to that."
+
+Carnac flushed.  "He agreed to that--you know it?"
+
+"Yes.  The day you were made candidate she arrived here; and the next
+morning she went to Barode Barouche and told her story.  He bade her
+remain secret till the time was ripe, and he was to be the judge of that.
+He was waiting for the night before the election.  Then he was going to
+strike you and win!"
+
+"She told you that--Luzanne told you that?"
+
+"And much else.  Besides, she told me you had saved her life from the
+street-cars; that you had played fair at the start."
+
+"First and last I played fair," he said indignantly.
+
+Her eyes were shining.  "Not from first to last, Carnac.  You ought not
+to have painted her, or made much of her and then thrown her over.  She
+knew--of course she knew, after a time, that you did not mean to propose
+to her, and all the evil in her came out.  Then she willed to have you in
+spite of yourself, believing, if you were married, her affection would
+win you in the end.  There it was--and you were to blame."
+
+"But why should you defend her, Junia?"
+
+Her tongue became bitter now.  "Just as you would, if it was some one
+else and not yourself."
+
+His head was sunk on his breast, his eyes were burning.  "It was a
+horrible thing for Barouche to plan."
+
+"Why so horrible?  If you were hiding a marriage for whatever reason, it
+should be known to all whose votes you wanted."
+
+"Barouche was the last man on earth to challenge me, for he had a most
+terrible secret."
+
+"What was it?"  Her voice had alarm, for she had never seen Carnac so
+disturbed.
+
+"He was fighting his own son--and he knew it!"  The words came in broken
+accents.
+
+"He was fighting his own son, and he knew it!  You mean to say that!"
+Horror was in her voice.
+
+"I mean that the summer before I was born--"
+
+He told her the story as his mother had told it to him.  Then at last he
+said:
+
+"And now you know Barode Barouche got what he deserved.  He ruined my
+mother's life; he died the easiest death such a man could die.  He has
+also spoiled my life."
+
+"Nothing can spoil your life except yourself," she declared firmly, and
+she laid a hand upon his arm.  "Who told you all this--and when?"
+
+"My mother in a letter last night.  I had a talk with her afterwards."
+
+"Who else knows?"  "Only you."
+
+"And why did you tell me?"
+
+"Because I want you to know why our ways must for ever lie apart."
+
+"I don't grasp what you mean," she declared in a low voice.
+
+"You don't grasp why, loving you, I didn't ask you to marry me long ago;
+but you found out for yourself from the one who was responsible, and
+freed me and saved me; and now you know I am an illegitimate son."
+
+"And you want to cut me out of your life for a bad man's crime, not your
+own.  .  .  .  Listen, Carnac.  Last night I told Mr. Tarboe I could not
+marry him.  He is rich, he has control of a great business, he is a man
+of mark.  Why do you suppose I did it, and for over two years have done
+the same?--for he has wanted me all that time.  Does not a girl know when
+a real man wants her?  And Luke Tarboe is a real man.  He knows what he
+wants, and he goes for it, and little could stop him as he travels.  Why
+do you suppose I did it?"  Her face flushed, anger lit her eyes.
+"Because there was another man; but I've only just discovered he's a
+sham, with no real love for me.  It makes me sorry I ever knew him."
+
+"Me--no real love for you!  That's not the truth: it's because I have no
+real name to give you--that's why I've spoken as I have.  Never have I
+cared for anyone except you, Junia, and I could have killed anyone that
+wronged you--"
+
+"Kill yourself then," she flashed.
+
+"Have I wronged you, Junia?"
+
+"If you kept me waiting and prevented me from marrying a man I could have
+loved, if I hated you--if you did that, and then at last told me to go my
+ways, don't you think it wronging me!  Don't be a fool, Carnac.  You're
+not the only man on earth a good girl could love.  I tell you, again and
+again I have been moved towards Luke Tarboe, and if he had had
+understanding of women, I should now be his wife."
+
+"You tell me what I have always known," he interposed.  "I knew Tarboe
+had a hold on your heart.  I'm not so vain as to think I've always been
+the one man for you.  I lived long in anxious fear, and--"
+
+"And now you shut the door in my face!  Looked at from any standpoint,
+it's ugly."
+
+"I want you to have your due," he answered with face paler.  "You're a
+great woman--the very greatest, and should have a husband born in honest
+wedlock."
+
+"I'm the best judge of what I want," she declared almost sharply, yet
+there was a smile at her lips.  "Why, I suppose if John Grier had left
+you his fortune, you'd give it up; you'd say, 'I have no right to it,'
+and would give it to my brother-in-law, Fabian."
+
+"I should."
+
+"Yet Fabian had all he deserved from his father.  He has all he should
+have, and he tried to beat his father in business.  Carnac, don't be a
+bigger fool than there's any need to be.  What is better than that John
+Grier's business should be in Tarboe's hands--or in yours?  Remember,
+John Grier might have left it all to your mother, and, if he had, you'd
+have taken it, if she had left it to you.  You'd have taken it even if
+you meant to give it away afterwards.  There are hospitals to build.
+There are good and costly things to do for the State."
+
+Suddenly she saw in his eyes a curious soft understanding, and she put
+her hand on his shoulder.  "Carnac," she said gently, "great, great
+Carnac, won't you love me?"
+
+For an instant he felt he must still put her from him, then he clasped
+her to his breast.
+
+"But I really had to throw myself into your arms!" she said later.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+"HALVES, PARDNER, HALVES"
+
+It was Thanksgiving Day, and all the people of the Province were en fete.
+The day was clear, and the air was thrilling with the spirits of the
+north country; the vibrant sting of oxygen, the blessed resilience of the
+river and the hills.
+
+It was a great day on the St. Lawrence, for men were preparing to go to
+the backwoods, to the "shanties," and hosts were busy with the crops,
+storing them; while all in trade and industry were cheerful.  There was a
+real benedicite in the air.  In every church.  Catholic and Protestant,
+hands of devoted workers had made beautiful altar and communion table,
+and lectern and pulpit, and in the Methodist chapel and the Presbyterian
+kirk, women had made the bare interiors ornate.  The bells of all the
+churches were ringing, French and English; and each priest, clergyman and
+minister was moving his people in his own way and by his own ritual to
+bless God and live.
+
+In the city itself, the Mayor had arranged a festival in the evening, and
+there were gathered many people to give thanks.  But those most
+conspicuous were the poor, unsophisticated habitants, who were on good
+terms with the refreshment provided.  Their enthusiasm was partly due to
+the presence of Carnac Grier.  In his speech to the great crowd, among
+other things the Mayor said: "It is our happiness that we have here one
+whose name is familiar to all in French-Canada--that of the new Member of
+Parliament, Monsieur Carnac Grier.  In Monsieur Grier we have a man who
+knows his own mind, and it is filled with the interests of the French as
+well as the English.  He is young, he has power, and he will use his
+youth and power to advance the good of the whole country.  May he live
+long!"
+
+Carnac never spoke better in his life than in his brief reply.  When he
+had finished, some one touched his arm.  It was Luke Tarboe.
+
+"A good speech, Grier.  Can you give me a few moments?"
+
+"Here?" asked Carnac, smiling.
+
+"Not here, but in the building.  There is a room where we can be alone,
+and I have to tell you something of great importance."
+
+"Of great importance?  Well, so have I to tell you, Tarboe."
+
+A few minutes later they were in the Mayor's private parlour, hung with
+the portraits of past Governors and Mayors, and carrying over the door
+the coat-of-arms of the Province.
+
+Presently Carnac said: "Let me give you my news first, Tarboe: I am to
+marry Junia Shale--and soon."
+
+Tarboe nodded.  "I expected that.  She is worth the best the world can
+offer."  There was a ring of honesty in his tone.  "All the more reason
+why I should tell you what my news is, Carnac.  I'm going to tell you
+what oughtn't yet to be told for another two years, but I feel it due
+you, for you were badly used, and so I break my word to your father."
+
+Carnac's hand shot out in protest, but Tarboe took no notice.  "I mean to
+tell you now in the hour of your political triumph that--"
+
+"That I can draw on you for ten thousand dollars, perhaps?" shot out
+Carnac.
+
+"Not for ten thousand, but in two years' time--or to-morrow--for a
+hundred and fifty times that if you want it."
+
+Carnac shrugged his shoulders.  "I don't know what you're driving at,
+Tarboe.  Two years from now--or to-morrow--I can draw on you for a
+hundred and fifty times ten thousand dollars!  What does that mean?  Is
+it you're tired of the fortune left you by the biggest man industrially
+French-Canada has ever known?"
+
+"I'll tell you the truth--I never had a permanent fortune, and I was
+never meant to have the permanent fortune, though I inherited by will.
+That was a matter between John Grier and myself.  There was another will
+made later, which left the business to some one else."
+
+"I don't see."
+
+"Of course you don't see, and yet you must."  Tarboe then told the story
+of the making of the two wills, doing justice to John Grier.
+
+"He never did things like anyone else, and he didn't in dying.  He loved
+you, Carnac.  In spite of all he said and did he believed in you.  He
+knew you had the real thing in you, if you cared to use it."
+
+"Good God!  Good God!" was all Carnac could at first say.  "And you
+agreed to that?"
+
+"What rights had I?  None at all.  I'll come out of it with over a half-
+million dollars--isn't that enough for a backwoodsman?  I get the profits
+of the working for three years, and two hundred thousand dollars besides.
+I ought to be satisfied with that."
+
+"Who knows of the will besides yourself?" asked Carnac sharply.
+
+"No one.  There is a letter to the bank simply saying that another will
+exists and where it is, but that's all.
+
+"And you could have destroyed that will in my favour?"
+
+"That's so."  The voice of Tarboe was rough with feeling, his face grew
+dark.  "More than once I willed to destroy it.  It seemed at first I
+could make better use of the property than you.  The temptation was big,
+but I held my own, and now I've no fear of meeting anyone in Heaven or
+Hell.  I've told you all.  .  .  .
+
+"Not quite all.  There's one thing more.  The thought of Junia Shale made
+me want to burn the second will, and I almost did it; but I'm glad I
+didn't."
+
+"If you had, and had married her, you wouldn't have been happy.  You
+can't be fooling a wife and be safe."
+
+"I guess I know that--just in time.  .  .  .  I have a bad heart, Carnac.
+Your property came to me against my will through your father, but I
+wanted the girl you're going to marry, and against my will you won
+her.  I fought for her.  I thought there was a chance for me, because of
+the rumour you were secretly married--"
+
+"I'll tell you about it, Tarboe, now.  It was an ugly business."  And he
+told in a dozen sentences the story of Luzanne and the false marriage.
+
+When he had finished, Tarboe held out his hand.  "It was a close shave,
+Carnac."
+
+After a few further remarks, Tarboe said: "I thought there was a chance
+for me with Junia Shale, but there never was a real one, for she was
+yours from a child.  You won her fairly, Carnac.  If you'll come to the
+office to-morrow morning, I'll show you the will."
+
+"You'll show me the will?" asked Carnac with an edge to his tone.
+
+"What do you mean?"  Tarboe did not like the look in the other's eyes.
+
+"I mean, what you have you shall keep, and what John Grier leaves me by
+that will, I will not keep."
+
+"You will inherit, and you shall keep."
+
+"And turn you out!" remarked Carnac ironically.  "I needn't be turned
+out.  I hoped you'd keep me as manager.  Few could do it as well, and, as
+Member of Parliament, you haven't time yourself.  I'll stay as manager at
+twenty thousand dollars a year, if you like."
+
+Carnac could not tell him the real reason for declining to inherit, but
+that did not matter.  Yet there flashed into his heart a love, which he
+had never felt so far in his life, for John Grier.  The old man had
+believed he would come out right in the end, and so had left him the
+fortune in so odd a way.  How Carnac longed to tell Tarboe the whole
+truth about Barode Barouche, and yet dare not!  After a short time of
+hesitation and doubt, Carnac said firmly:
+
+"I'll stand by the will, if you'll be my partner and manager, Tarboe.  If
+you'll take half the business and manage the whole of it, I'll sell the
+half for a dollar to you, and we can run together to the end."
+
+Tarboe's face lighted; there was triumph in his eyes.  It was all better
+than he had dared to hope, for he liked the business, and he loathed the
+way the world had looked at John Grier's will.
+
+"Halves, pardner, halves!" he said, assenting gladly, and held out his
+hand.
+
+They clasped hands warmly.
+
+The door opened and Junia appeared.  She studied their faces anxiously.
+When she saw the smiling light in them:
+
+"Oh, you two good men!" she said joyously, and held out a hand to each.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Don't be a bigger fool than there's any need to be
+Life is only futile to the futile
+Youth's a dream, middle age a delusion, old age a mistake
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE "CARNAC'S FOLLY":
+
+All genius is at once a blessing or a curse
+Do what you feel you've got to do, and never mind what happens
+Don't be a bigger fool than there's any need to be
+Had got unreasonably old
+How many sons have ever added to their father's fame?
+Life is only futile to the futile
+Never give up your soul to things only, keep it for people
+We suffer the shames we damn in others
+We do what we forbid ourselves to do
+Youth's a dream, middle age a delusion, old age a mistake
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARNAC'S FOLLY, BY PARKER, ENTIRE ***
+
+*********** This file should be named gp12610.txt or gp12610.zip ***********
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